Moving at the speed of sound, words execute a senile third grader's mind. Parsing like a sharp blade though the soul. She does nothing to defend. Sits there in the laughter and name calling of fellow students. Temporarily a yearling, she has no choice to fight back the older schoolers.
Growing up, I was harassed by other students. In the third grade, a girl older than me stuck gum and other trash in my hair as she called me names. The next day she would slap me till I would turn purple. I never wanted to tell someone. I thought if i did, she would just hurt me more the next time she saw me. All I could do was act as a coward, crawl into bed and cry. Should I have said something?
That wasn't the end of the horrible bullying days either. In fifth grade, I was called fat by my best friend. I ran home in tears. It made me upset. How could a friend just become mean in an instant?How could someone you trust back stab you?
All these years, I've been a wooden doll on strings. Controlled by all, controlling none. Not even myself. I found myself trapped in a hopeless world.Yet still thinking of what could change. What could make things better at the end. I won't let others control me. I will cut the strings attached to my arms and legs. I will do what I want to do. I am who I want to be. I'm Trixy.
KAMU SEDANG MEMBACA
The Work of a Puppet-Master
AcakJust a story I wrote along time ago. Not very good, but here it is anyway.
