Weird Kid

I was the weird kid in my misfit group of friends. Sure, everyone was different but I still felt like an outcast.
For a while it was tolerable, but towards the middle of my junior year, I realized some very important things about myself and about the people around me. Even though I called them friends, they weren’t treating me the way friends should. And I was gay. I told them, thinking they would still support me. Boy, was I wrong!
Things were okay at first. But steadily they just got worse. I don’t know what they thought about me. It doesn’t really matter though. It was how they treated me that almost ruined my life.
I was cyber bullied. I didn’t feel safe anywhere I went. It was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through. But, I went through it. And I made it.
While this was happening, it was nearing the end of my junior year.

Instead of giving us a final exam, my A.P History teacher assigned us projects. But instead of giving specific criteria to fulfill, it was up to us. We were told to come up with a project that we were passionate about, something that would take the summer to complete.
At first, I was completely stumped on what to do. Later, though, I thought of the “It Gets Better” videos I’d watched over and over. I thought of all the people I knew from a blogging site who’d gone through remarkably painful things. I wanted to learn their stories. And I wanted to share my own experience with people. I knew I’d have to work really hard. But I wanted to make a difference. I had to show there was hope to people who’d just begun to go through what I’d survived. I decided to call it “You Know My Face, Not My Story” because of the instances where I’d been bullied for things people didn’t understand about me.
About ten people ended up contributing. Their stories ranged from LGBT problems to sexual abuse, to family issues, and to self-harm. They were inspiring to not only me, but to a sister of a friend of mine as well.
She had attempted suicide twice and was admitted to a local hospital in the psychiatric ward. When I went to visit her, I brought a copy of the project with me. I thought, “This is what it’s for. This is why I did this. If it helps even one person, it is so worth it.” And a few days later, she was discharged from the hospital. She still struggles. But I’ll never forget her telling me that it helped her.
After that day, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t stop trying to make this project grow. I want to help people. Teenagers, especially, need to know there is hope and that they aren’t alone. I know I needed that. It’s now my turn to share what I’ve learned and spread the hope.

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