Love Is a Light

My story.

I think it’s time I wrote all of it down. It’ time to let the pain go. After all the stories of those who only found darkness and had no light to guide them through it all. I do not doubt that the scars within me are never going to ever fade completely and that I am going to have moments in which the sadness is overwhelming but I will carry on and carry the torch to guide others from the dark.

It was September. I remember because it was during the start of year 8. I had a history of people disliking me – I was a nerd in primary school and was different, but this was going to be hell on earth. It was the year George Sampson competed in Britain’s Got Talent which is kind of ironic as we now live in Warrington. Why did I tell her? I let my closest friend know that I possibly had feelings for her and that I was confused and wanted to talk about it. After a few moments of waiting for a reply text, my phone buzzed. ‘DYKE’ flashed on the screen among other messages that flicker in my mind when I’m low. I remember dropping my phone and sitting against my bedroom wall with my head in my hands. Tomorrow was going to be hard. I just never expected what was to come.

I got up for school as usual and put my uniform on. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Bloodshot eyes, scruffy hair, I set off into oblivion. It was one of the longest walks in my life so far. I thought everything was going perfectly fine until I got to the main street before school. I could hear the laughter before it had left their lips. The whispers from all different year group’s, as one older student pushed me into the road as a car was driving along, he said I should die. Luckily, the car only skimmed my foot as I managed to get up. My body went into shock. I couldn’t move or speak when I reached the end of the road. Tears streamed and I forgot where I was. Hysterical I begged to return home. When I was finally allowed to return, I did not utter a single word but went to my room, under the covers and did not dare emerge. I honestly don’t know how long my body stayed in this state for, but it soon had to pass. School wasn’t optional.

They all stood around the desk in the office room. My mum, granddad and Nan with the head teacher, they all stood with their eyes of disgust at the fact it was my entire fault. In that very moment, delusions of grandeur kicked in. I went completely insane and it frightens me that sometimes it still happens. I lost control. I lose control. I snapped the evidence, threw away my lunch money, and snapped my glasses. I wanted to spontaneously combust from the heat of the words and bruises as they followed me around amused by my meltdown. The process repeated itself for days on end until one day everything changed. I was in form quietly staring into nothingness when she invited me over to hang out with her and her friends. We spent a couple weeks chatting on instant messenger and going out after school.

One day amongst the muttering in class a rumour spread about me and her, stupidly I sarcastically commented on it. It was true that I had a crush on her but not what they made it out to be. Break time came and she came up to me with questions and I didn’t know how to answer them. She stopped talking to me and after that started joining in with people’s taunts. As there was nowhere to turn or hide, I spent many of my lunchtimes having food and drink thrown over me while people laughed and cheered each other on.
Months of torture passed. There was a gossip website which eventually became a site where people would express their deep hatred for me and how being gay was a death sentence. Me and her began talking again and hanging out. I thought things were getting better but it turns out I was her experiment and game. She and her friends emotionally taunted me using my feelings for her for their sick games. She would say she feels the same and then laugh at me. It was humiliating. I fell for it every time and we would spend time out together. Me and all my friends – ha! I meant nothing to them in the end.

I and she spent a lot of time together – Perhaps too much time. I sometimes think that she did have some hidden feelings for me too. I mean she kept saying things that suggested it as a truth. I remember how just her holding my hand, her fingertips against mine made me tremble. She was beautiful in a broken glass reflecting a rainbow sort of way. We spoke of things that only we could share as her friends wouldn’t understand which is why I think she hid it inside.

Depressed I did a lot of stupid things on the internet, exposing myself to strangers and cutting in the worst way possible, enough to hurt but not to scar. I wanted to hurt not to bleed. I punched walls and pulled hairs out of my scalp in attempts to feel something.
One sick prank her and her friends, my supposed friends played was the Amy Incident in which they made a fake messaging account befriended me and got close to each other and then made it out that I had caused their suicide. I wanted to be tried for murder. I really thought I had caused a person to that. Ironic as they almost caused mine. So many failed attempts to take it away that luckily were unsuccessful. I didn’t realize it was a prank until quite late on in that year. I just got told that she was alive by them to stop me from doing anything about it. Another event was one of her friends hitting me over the head with a bark of wood and that he hoped my Mum would die like me. They would always say it was a joke and that it was all fun and games to get me to join in. I was angry at them, so angry at myself that I decided to do something about it. I moved away to a school closer to home as I had moved to Warrington earlier that year as my Mum had remarried.

The new school seemed ok. I kept quiet and stuck to my work. I made a couple friends and life went on until they started hurling abuse at me for having bright red hair. Then the ex-friends got involved with new ones and the whole system interloped. I couldn’t come back to that school. Although my Mum was ill, she tried her best everyday to get me to go back. Eventually, I succumbed to one final agonising day, promising myself that I was going to do the thing that I had spent cutting into me for the past two years. I spent the day being the perfect daughter knowing what I had to do. I wrote in the note that I had no-one and set off into the night. I carried on walking until I reached the bridge over the motorway. My breathing slowed as my lungs struggled to let the air enter and escape. This was it. I closed my eyes and stood on the bridge near the edge and looked ahead at the blue sky. I couldn’t do it. I stepped back down and let my feet carry on. I ended up back at my old school nearly 9 miles away. Tears streamed and I remember sitting in the living room as police asked me what I was doing. The main investigator was expecting the worst. So was I. I spent what felt like forever staring at my ceiling lying on my bed. The girl sent many texts questioning the events and apologising. She has apologised so many times. I say I have forgiven her but in honesty it’s hard to.

I had counselling that was utter shit. I spent an hour being told how good I am and then in another meeting it was an excuse for my family to say how shit I am. I moved back to my old school and succumbed once again to two years of torture which the head teachers decided to blame me and turn a blind eye. I spent 80% of my time off and managed to pass my GCSE’s.

I chose to go to Collegiate as it was a smaller class and I didn’t see myself as good enough to do A-levels. I enjoyed it for a year but then built my self-esteem back slowly. I made some friends but it lacked substance.

The feeling of lowness came over me near the start and I did the stupidest possible thing I could do. I had sex with a total stranger of the internet as I felt worthless. After that, I denied it to myself and went on with life. Imagining it was a dream.

A year later, I moved to Priestley to study the things I wanted to when I was younger. I want to be a teacher or writer. I want to change the world with words. I have made some friends now, life still sometimes gets a little complicated, but it goes on.

By the time I was going to Collegiate, my Mum was a lot a better and had a cake shop in Macclesfield. Some girl worked there for a while but she turned out to be a bitch when two new life friends started. They’ve shared things about themselves that I wouldn’t expect considering we have only known each other a short while. I love them so much. They are my family and I have never felt like I belong until now. I still shy from being myself a lot but that’s more through embarrassment and not wanting them to worry about me than shame. I worry about them thought. A lot. As the things they told me make me want to do things I never thought I could possibly feel even after what has happened.

My mum and our new family open the new shop around the corner in December. I’m looking forward to it. College is going well and things are looking up. I may still not know everything about myself whether I like girls or boys but I believe in love. The love from family and the light got me through this. I look back at my reflection from old to new and smile. I proved them wrong. Life really does go on and it gets better.

– Beth


One Response to “Love Is a Light”

  1. Josh | November 13, 2012 at 10:54 am #

    When silly people tell me I shoduln’t have told Mia at such a young age that she was adopted, I have to shake my head. One, she’s Chinese and I’m as white as they come. Do they think she’d not realize something was off? Two, in today’s world, with all that we know from adults who’ve shared their stories (mothers and children), why not? In all my selfishness in the beginning, I was glad we’d never have a chance to know her birthmother so I wouldn’t have to share. Now I realize how stupid I was and wish with all my heart she’ll have that chance one day. Happy anniversary, Lisa & Roslyn. You’ve blessed my life so, Lisa. I can’t imagine what you’ve done for Roslyn’s life.

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