When I was in middle school I was bullied severely. Every day it was something. I would get to school, the bully, would find me no matter where I hid he would find me.
I hated going to school, and nearly dropped out because of the bullying. There are things that happened to me that I carry with me. A lot of it is damage that happened to me because of fear.
Fear of what would happen to me if I told, fear of nothing happening. I wasn’t the only one this happened to. I nearly dropped out of school because of a bully. I thought about killing myself often, more often than anyone knows.
I thought of killing the bully, I even took a knife to school once. This was before Columbine and things weren’t watched as much.
The day that changed my life was in my English class. We had a set of words that we had to create a story with, normal stuff. Well I wrote a story, but I forgot to use the words.
When I turned the paper in I didn’t realize that I’d done it. I only knew I enjoyed writing the story. It was such a freeing moment in my life. I had never felt anything like it, I’d never had anyone tell me that I could feel that way.
Joining the ranks.
When I returned to class the next day, and received my paper. It had an A on it, something I didn’t receive often, but at the top of the page, next to the grade was a small note in red, Brian, this is really good, but where are the words.
That happened the end of eight grade. I left the school and moved in with my mom and step-dad for a while that summer. I think I was contemplating what to do, but I took a notebook and pen with me. I wrote down poems, stories and things that I observed.
By the end of the summer I moved back into my dads, and back at the school with the bully. I tried to make it in that school, but the bully was there and I couldn’t go to school. I got to the point where I didn’t care if I woke up or not, and many times I wish I didn’t.
My dad had no idea how bad it was, don’t think he still does. After one horrible day, I had a big fight with my dad and moved to my mom and step-dads. I took the notebook with me.
My writing has always been my keeper of secrets, lies, stories, my hearts wishes and the things I wanted most out of life.
I truly believe that notebook, and writing save my life. I am 100% sure I would have killed myself if I didn’t learn to write.
What caused you to become a writer? Answer in the comments.