Statistics

My life has been a statistic

People tell me that i'm not just a statistic,

Not just a number,

Not just a person taking up space on this earth.

They tell me that i'm unique,

One of a kind,

That there never has been,

Or never will be another person like me.

They say that i'm strong,

Bright,

Happy.

They tell me that i'm privileged,

That I don’t know what it’s like to have nothing,

That I have everything that I could ever need.

They say that i’m skinny,

And that I need to eat more.

They tell me that the “Haters are going to hate,

But I just have to shake it off.”

But they don’t know me.

They don’t know my past.

They don’t know how I grew up.

I am a statistic.

My birth was one in a million.

My mind was exceptional compared to that of children my own age.

My childhood happens to every one in five girls.

I fell in love for the first time at the expected age of fifteen,

And had my heart broken the same year.

I am one in four children who experience bullying.

They don’t know that my family was falling apart before I was even born,

Or that I was sexualy abused before the age of four,

Or that my father left before I was five.

They don’t understand that I lost everything,

That I had nothing,

That enough food was a luxury at one point in my life.

They don’t know that I was bullied with no one there to stand behind me,

Or that their words really got to me,

To the point that I wanted it all to end.

They don’t know that I tried to kill myself twice before the end of second grade,

And once more in seventh grade,

Or that I was told that I was fat constantly,

Everyday,

For years.

They don’t know that being called fat really got to me.

That I developed an eating disorder by fifth grade,

Or that I was the same weight for three years.

They don’t know that everyone I thought liked me turned their backs on me,

That they didn’t even realize what was going on,

That they didn’t care.

No one,

Not my best friend,

Not the people around me,

Not even my family realized that I was slowly withering away.

I wore a mask for the majority of my life,

Concealing everything with in,

Not wanting anyone to see,

Or have to deal with my problems.

I didn’t want people to run away from me,

Like they had in the past.

I was alone.

No one,

Not any one,

Can tell me that my life is,

And has been,

Amazing,

Because they don’t know me,

And they don’t know my past,

Or my statistics.

Reviews

[seth bauman]

I like that you used dates and statistics to tie it all together. personal and from the heart.