FORGIVING CAN BE HARD, BUT FORGETTING CAN BE IMPOSSIBLE.

Have you ever felt consumed with hatred that you wanted to kill someone? Does the mere thought of that person fill your heart with unutterable loathing. Believe me, it can happen and when it happens, it's very hard to put it behind you and move on.

I have to admit that it was no fun being me growing up. I was one of those people who just didn't fit in. I was a "nerd," I wore glasses, I'm only 5'2" and weigh just a little over 100 lbs now. So I was what you might call the runt of my class. I was socially awkward and I seemed to have a bad case of "foot in mouth" disease. What was far worse was that I was a hothead, I was easily riled up by jokers and tricksters who like playing jokes on unsuspecting fools. All that and more made me a prime target for bullies at school.

Middle school was for me the worst years of my life, starting in 7th grade. I went to one school dance in middle school. I got dressed up in my best clothes, got my hair fixed, makeup, the whole nine yards. Like all of the other girls with "raging hormones" at the onset of puberty, I had hopes of being asked by a nice boy to dance with him. But all that I got there was insults and called names. My dad came and picked me up early, I was crying when he got there.

But the worst and most traumatic thing to happen to me came less than a month after the dance. There were three boys who had been harassing me for a couple of weeks. I should have complained to the principal about them, but, you know, it wasn't cool to be a snitch, so I tried to avoid them. But one day, they couldn't be avoided. It was between classes and I was on my way to gym class gym shorts and t-shirt in hand, ready to change. The boys caught me in a crowded hallway and tried to get close, the insults and innuendos continued, but I tried to ignore them. Suddenly, I felt a heavy hand reach up my skirt, grabbing my butt. This boy, whose name was Paul, was big enough to play high school football. He must have weighed around 250 lbs. and was a foot taller than me. I screamed! But he proceeded to rip my skirt off and hold me to the floor. In the process, I lost my glasses. Half naked and with blurry vision, I crawled into a corner, terrified out of my mind.

Thank God, there were two teachers who saw the whole thing and came to my aid. One of them manhandled Paul to the floor, while the other one covered me up and took me to the nurse's office. Another student found my glasses and took them to the office. As for Paul, He was arrested and put into a holding cell in at the police station, until his parents bailed him out. My Dad picked me up from school and took me home. It was over.

This entire confrontation lasted less than a minute, but it was the most traumatic moment of my life. That day and the trial that followed were hard for me to cope with. For six month afterword's, I went through therapy. Doctors prescribe a medication intended to relieve my anxiety, but it also made me severely depressed and suicidal. To this very day, I suffer from what the doctors called "Androphobia," (the fear of men). As an adult, I was alone in an elevator with four men, all in business suits who were no threat to me. I became so anxious that I nearly fainted. When one of the men tried to help me, I screamed. Back then I had the same hopes and dreams that most girls have at that age. But now it is impossible to feel close or intimate toward any man. What Paul did to me robbed me of that simple pleasure forever.

At the beginning of my high school years, I faced the worst time in my life, followed by the best. While still trying to recover from the my trauma, I faced a similar situation, but this time, it had a different ending. Once again a smart *** boy tried tried to grab my butt. But this time, I turn toward him and kicked him in the groin. It felt good watching him fall to the floor in pain. But my reward for my fortitude was being suspended from school for a week. To add insult to injury, My dad grounded me. It was during this unplanned vacation that my depression was at its worst. I found a bottle of rat poison in the basement and I contemplated drinking it. I took the cap off the bottle and lifted it close to my mouth, I could smell it's sweet aroma. But then, my hand began to shake, my heart was beating at high speed. But without thinking, I through the bottle away, breaking it against the cement basement wall. I fell to my knees and cried.

TO BE CONTINUED.
EmmaSylvester EmmaSylvester
26-30, F
Aug 22, 2014