The Schoolyard is Burning...

They tripped me...

I scraped both knees so many times in Elementary school that there are permanent scars on each.

Why did I have to be the fat girl?

Even when I was little, I would jiggle all over when I ran. Even then, those girls with the skinny legs and dangling arms flounced about in their halter-tops and mini-skirts.

My grandparents told me to take a few laps in the backyard.

...They thought I was fat, too.

I was in the system back then. I'd already forgotten what happened to us, by our mother's own hands...I cried for that woman. I was only alowed to see her every other weekend. And sometimes, she didn't show...

She gave birth to my baby half-brother on tax day.

After a while, they stopped bringing Katie to see us.

I was messy, as a kid. I was constantly cutting and pasting and taping, creating masterpieces out of printer paper...wasting it all...

That was my fun.

My friends were not my friends. They were shoes, and I was a doormat. They stomped, stepped, walked, and wiped their shit all in my face.

Why, then, was I still able to smile?

...But that smile faded by 14...

I remember when that kid, Kyle whats-his-face, kept taunting me in class. 6th grade was torture, but it was no worse than the rest of my life had been...

He called me baby-killer, and devil-worshipper. He criticised me for dressing like a tomboy...made fun of my braids, and my rap music...my baggy pants, and my over-sized t-shirts...he didn't understand that it was my uniform. It was all I was alowed to wear.

He broke my CD player one day, and damaged the CD inside. It had been the most explicit rap CD I'd ever owned, and, being so young, I was fiercely proud of it.

The teacher never did punish him...

She never even helped me when I asked. She told me to fix it on my own...

They said they found me kissing a girl in the bathroom.

My "best friend" defended the girl who spread that rumor...wouldn't tell me who she was, even though I'd had my suspicions...She'd been friends with the girl for maybe two weeks. We'd been friends for 3 years...

Loyalty means nothing, here.

There are scars on my arm, just inside, by the bend, where I used to cut myself.

I wonder how long it would've taken me to kill myself, or run away, if I hadn't moved to SC at 14?

...It hurts to think like that.

I am alive.