The Little Girl and the Emo B***h

Growing up I was sexually abused by my aunt's "husband" (they're illegal immigrants so they can't get married in America). I do not remember much but those images of his penis and his disgusting smirk is engraved in my head. My mother and people before her when analyzing me theorize that I was mute because of this,(I am also autistic and "mentally delayed' as the state of Tennessee labels it), for I never said a thing to anyone until I blurted out what he made me do and what he did to me to a lady who brought me in for drawing penis flowers in dark colours. I didn't stop peeing the bed 'till I was ten.

I was also obese and mentally delayed as I claimed before, giving my little classmates ammunition to shoot me with. I stuck and practically clung to the teachers and books and the kids found that agitating. Even my best friend would leave my side at times because the majority didn't like me. 

This poor little girl, I still weep for from time to time.

Then going on into middle school, I was depressed and quite lonely. My mother says that it was quite the transformation, I was as sweet and happy and as winsome that I could be but it all changed so quickly. Because of everyone pointing out my hairy arms and larger proportions I wore baggy clothing and jackets, all the time. I spoke rarely and tried not making a spectacle of myself. This was the beginning of middle school, I was still clinging on to what little hopes a child like me could cling to.

Sixth grade was terrible. I got in with the wrong people and this just changed my whole entire life. I still wonder what would have happened should I have not been so nice to the wrong people. But what was the worst of my middle school years was my "emo phase seventh grade".

Oh God how I LOATHE this self-pitying, lying, emotional and immature little b***h. I hate her. Because she was of a larger proportioned body she attracted high school boys and older online and fooled around with the lot of them, never committing or tying down to one. She lied and fibbed to get attention from anyone who cared, and wondered why no one would believe her when she told the truth. She cut and told maybe one teacher and that's because she actually cared. Other than that she hid them and told anyone that came upon them that they were just bad scratches from fights with cats. She was so terrible and I have almost no pity for her. The small pity that I do have for her is when she was being sexually harassed, verbally and physically bullied by a know-it-all wannabe smart a*s atheist kid who would shove his hand down her skirts or pants and then turn around to call her a fat ugly emo cow. (And then claim they were best friends? The hell.) Her family did not help with a lot of this emotionally. 

I speak of that part of my life in third person because I am no longer her, just like I am not that little girl who was terribly abused by many (not just sexually). I am myself now and finding new things about my person every day. What goes on in this period will be saved for another chapter for myself. 

Wow. That was emotionally taxing to write.