Words that hurt me

When I was six years old, I experienced bullying. Something that nobody and especially no kid should have to go through. I still remember his face everytime I walk into that classroom, just trying to have a friend and go to school. I couldn’t have that. I was six, yet my brain felt like it didn’t have the right to think like a six year old. The lump in my throat formed into a ball of humiliation. All I could do was stand there, eyes dilating. Moving from left to right, watching my classmates stare at me with shrugging shoulders.

His lips moving, silent words escaping underneath his breath. Filthy, disgusting and vile commands fleed. All of the thoughts that were scrambling from my head fell to my heart. Constant pumps beating rapidly as if it was about to burst out of my chest and everybody would let it rot. Why did I listen to him? 

I have no idea and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to figure out why. Halfway of humiliating myself in front of everybody, giving him that satisfaction that he doesn’t deserve, my teacher runs towards me with widened eyes and shock spreading through her face. Frowning eyebrows and pale lips. My eyes spoke nothing. 

Afterwards, I moved to a different school with a different perspective. I believe that things can change. Nothing is going to stay the same forever. That’s how it goes right? Tiny vowels with gaps in between them escaped underneath my breath trying to form just a word. Or atleast a sentence. “Can I hang out with you?” “Want to be friends?” What was I doing wrong? 

It wouldn’t stop. The constant articulation surrounding me that just overtakes my mind and soul. It’s every single day and I’m sick of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always be the death of me.