You know that old saying, "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?"

Well, that's my main focus in this monologue. This one might be a bit long, but I'd very much appreciate it if you would stay until the end.

One of my most popular monologues was my first monologue that was written when I first published the first volume of monologues. It was titled #BULLYING, and I don't think I need to explain what that one was about, as it is pretty self-explanatory. There are also other monologues that I've mentioned something similar to this topic, the biggest being #WAKINGUP, #BAND, and #MONOLOGUES. #WAKINGUP was pretty much going deeper into my experience of the effects of bullying, but that was two years ago. So much in my life has changed since then, both positive and negative, that I don't even know how to begin to describe it in words.

I'm really going to focus on #MONOLOGUES from the first volume, because, even now when I feel like my life is so much better than it was, for someone to listen is still really what I crave.

One thing I said in the monologue was that my love language was words of affirmation, and while that is still true, I took the test again, and this time, I got equal scores for both words of affirmation and physical touch. And there's a reason behind that.

I've said time and time again that I've been bullied for six and a half years. To be completely honest, I've said it so much that it's getting so old for me to even think about it and I feel like it's time to let go of that. My second to eighth grade years were some of the most stressful times of my life, and I really don't want to have to carry that the rest of my life. What's past is past, and although I really hate to admit it, I can't change the past. I can't force anyone to like me. I can't make anyone take back or apologize for what they said. What's done is done, and as much as I wish I could, I can't change that.

I do want to move on I want to let go. That may not sound hard, but you just don't understand. Bullying isn't just messing around with a kid, calling them bad names, or beating someone up. You have no idea what kind of impact it has on a person. Yes, it obviously sounds unfair whenever you hear about it, but it's so much more than that. You may say that it's not too bad and if you just don't listen to anyone around you, then you'll be fine, but it's just not that easy.

Imagine that you're sitting on a park bench. It's a nice day, and you're just lounging about reading a magazine or a good book by yourself. Imagine there's a person next to you. They begin to poke you. Not a simple, I-want-to-get-your-attention poke, no, no, no; one of those annoying let's-see-how-long-it-takes-you-to-crack poke. And they just keep doing it. Over and over, they keep poking you. It's so annoying and so distracting and you don't like it. You ask them to stop but they won't no matter how hard you try. It starts to rain and you really want to get home and take a nice shower, but the person won't stop poking you. You stand up, but they stand up to. You walk away, but they only continue to follow you. You try to run, but they're still there, right on your tail. Poking. Poking. Poking. You try to slap them away but they still keep poking. Poking. Poking. With every poke, you can feel their finger digging deeper, deeper, deeper into your side. You can't escape this. No matter how hard you try.

That's what bullying is.

Yes, it may sound easy to just ignore everyone, but it's just not that simple. It starts off small; the first day someone calls you "ugly" and it stings a little, but you don't stress about it too much. But it doesn't stop there. Before you know it everyone is in your face. "Ugly," they call you. "Ugly," they nag you. "Ugly," they scream at you. No matter where you go, no matter where you turn, they're still there. "Ugly." Don't tell that you can ignore that.

It doesn't stop there. You build up walls around you, searching for something, anything, anywhere to escape to. You try reading books, but they are torn from your hands and thrown on the ground in front of you. "Ugly." You try doodling, but your creations are ripped to pieces right in your face. "Ugly." You try to sing, think, talk to the voices in your head, anything, anything to get them to stop. "Ugly," they call you. "Ugly," they call you. "Ugly," they nag you. "Ugly," they scream at you. No matter where you go, no matter where you turn, they're still there.

"Ugly."

Soon enough, everything you do is turning against you. You're a horrible person. You're a bully. You're worthless. You have no talent. No one wants you here. Why are you still living? And they keep saying it, screaming in your face, and you can't escape them. 

You can't escape them.

Every day, every morning, every waking moment, you hope and pray with all your heart and soul to get just one moment's peace, but it doesn't come. You rebuild your walls, but every day someone comes along to tear it down. You begin to crack. Voices in your head are fighting everyday to keep out the outside screaming, but they're tired. It can't be true what they say, but they're there. You want to scream. You want to yell. You want to, for just one moment, cease existence. Anything, anything to get them to stop.

Just when everything has fallen apart, just when you have nearly given up on everything, you begin to hear the screams dissolve. Slowly, cautiously, you open your eyes. The sun is out. It is shining on you, and a hand reaches out to you. You take it, cautiously, just expectly for something bad to happen.

But it doesn't.

Is this it? 

Are you free? 

No one is screaming. No one is poking. No one is in your face. You see on a smile on the face of the person who helped you. Slowly, you start to to calm down. You look towards the sun. It's so bright, so promising. This was all you ever wanted.

But they, just for a second, you look down at the wreckage that surrounds you. Your walls are so worn and only small stumps remain. The ground is littered with ash, wet and stained with your tears. Was it really that horrible?

You eventually leave your walls. You try to move on, and you couldn't have asked for anything more. But everyone is around you. They're not screaming. Why not? Doesn't everyone hate you? All you've known your entire life has been fear, anger, and hate. Everyone is calling you such wonderful things. "You're beautiful." "I wish I was as talented as you." "You're such a great friend." "You're so kind and caring." "I don't know where I'd be if I hadn't met you." You appreciate it so much, but you just can't believe it. What happened to everyone? Can they not see who you are? It comes to the point where you just ask yourself over and over, "Why is it that I am the same person I was, but one group of people rejects me while the others embraces me?"

You want to move on. You want to forget. You want to be happy again. But you're so tired. You're so tired of fighting. Yes, no one is screaming at you, but the walls you built left echoes. And those echoes still remain.

No one hates you. No one wants you to die. No one is screaming in your face everywhere you turn. But why not? What happened? You're so tired of fighting, but the echoes are still there. You're finally free. Why can't you escape the past? Slowly, you start to build up your walls. Others try to take them down, try to get close to you, but you push them away. You can't be helped. It's too late. You don't deserve it. And slowly, a few people start to reject you.

You don't want to live like this anymore. You want more than everything to be happy again, but whenever you finally get back up, your entire world just seems to crumple around you. You feel horrible because you know it's not okay, you know you're hurting others, but you don't know how to stop. It's as if something inside of you has died, and the rest of your body is utterly paralyzed.

Stop it. Stop hurting others. If you have, please apologize, but you have no idea what words can do to a person.

Stop it.