A Sick Joke.In middle school, I was what one would call "emo". I also liked to write poetry. Well, one day, I wrote a poem about an attempted suicide of mine. It was called "Little Red Pill", and I had written it during my math class. Let me tell you, my math teacher hated me anyway, and was one of those who picked on her students. Unfortunately for me, I accidentally left that poem in her class, underneath my desk, and one of the other students found it and showed it to my teacher. You'd think she would've had enough respect or brains to at least keep it to herself, right? -Nope, she didn't. She showed her classes, and made fun of it- fueling the hateful fire that the students had already been burning. I found out about it when I was walking down the hall, and everyone kept looking at me, whispering "Little Red Pill" and laughing/joking. -I remember speed walking my way to the car after school, crying, and this one specifically morbid kid decided it'd be funny to make fun of me too. Just when I thought I was in the clear, there he was, to make sure I knew how much of a freak I was. That day was pretty bad, and for some reason, that one kid, just sent me off the edge. I remember him the most. I stayed home from school the next day. -That was the first time I'd stayed home from school because I was afraid of the kids there, which says a lot because I'd been being bullied for quite some time before that.
It didn't seem right, and still doesn't. My entire grade bullying me for having problems, and wanting to die. My TEACHER going along with it. It was a joke to them. All of them. -And you know what? It probably still is.
Well, that's one ******* sick joke.