Table Ten

Ah, the lunchroom. Most impotent part of the day. The tables, the cliques, the "popular" kids. Sixth grade, your overall goal is to be popular. I know it was my goal. And I made it there, in a time span of five days. I never thought that Cici, Brianna, Alexis, Mia, Allison, Sarah, or Chase would ever backstab me. They never knew that I was backstabbed before, they never knew until they did it themselves. The two months that my popularity lasted, I was thought to be the happiest girl in the world. I never told anyone until it was too late, these girls were killing me. I hated being around them, but I did not want to be the loner again. Again, the loner, like I was in fifth grade, in forth grade, in third grade, in second grade, in first grade. Not wanting to be at the bottom of the food-chain again, I stuck with them, my real friends getting further and further away. I started to inflect self-harm, in other words, I started to cut myself. I always kept my arm covered, should they ask I would say I was cold. Good enough cover, my school is always cold. None of them knew of the demon that was taking over my life because I hated them so much. I hated being around them, I hated talking to them, I hated passing notes in the middle of class with them, I hated sharing lockers, and sharing secrets. I was tired of it all, and every time I put the blade to my skin, the only thing I was thinking is that I hated them for making me do this. I hated them for making me bleed out of my arm because they were making my heart bleed out.

The day my popularity ended, I thought that it would be the worst day of my life. And it was all because of a stupid fight about who-knows-what with Cici. I was the loner for a week, but then, for reasons I cant imagine, they let me back in. But after that our friendship was no longer the same. I didn't open up with them like I had, I was getting close to three new girls. A pyromaniac, named Marah, a super shy girl, named Hayley, and the VP of student council, Bethany. We all tried out for the play that year, and we all made it. As I started hanging out with them I learned that I didn't have to be popular to not be the loner. I started to stand up for myself and others as they made fun of them. It made them hate me. Then one day, I wrote a note to Cici telling her, in the nicest words that I could mange, that I no longer wanted to be friends with her. I'm sorry to say that I made her cry. I really am. I am not a mean person by nature, it's hard for me to be mean. But when she started to cry, I just reminded myself of all the times she made me cry, her and my "friends" made me cry. I know who my real friends are now, the girls that really care about me. I feel so safe around them that I even told them what table ten made me do. Now I can stare at my arms, and all I see are fading scars. True friends are medicine. True friends are my sisters. I love them more then I love my real sisters.

 I am now in seventh grade, and now I know who my real friends are. I will never forget what those girls did to me, but I can forgive them. And I can also thank them. They helped me learn who I really am, they helped me learn the biggest lesson of a life-time, and I will make sure not to forget it this time. We all have our battle scars, but it's not them what makes us who we are. What makes you who we are is the courage you found when standing up again after you fell, even when you knew that you were going to fall again.

Table eleven, here I come.

redupp redupp
13-15, F
Mar 3, 2010