I Needed to Say ThisMature

People should choose their words more wisely.

That joke you made about anorexia the other day?

That wasn't funny.

And it will never be, not to people like me.

Not to people whose lives have been torn apart by anorexia.

And, by the way, a man wearing a skirt got set on fire on a bus in California.

How is that okay?

It's not.

It's narrow-minded people like the one who made that poorly-worded comment, who can't accept someone that is unique or different or struggling, people like that who set that person on fire.

Fire. That's not okay. But was it first-page news? No.

If it had been a wealthy little white child, it would have been the first thing that you saw when you opened the newspaper.

But it wasn't. And when teenagers die of anorexia or bulimia or depression, you don't see it.

But that doesn't mean it didn't happen, because it did.

So shut your filthy mouth, stop saying things like that.

Because oh yes, bisexuality isn't real.

Yeah right.

Do you think I want to be told that my sexuality doesn't exist?


Do you think I want to be told that if I fell in love with a girl, I wouldn't be able to marry her?

Hell, no.

Anorexia isn't something to laugh about, it's not a casual comment or joke.

It's long nights tossing and turning with your sister starving herself in the room next  to yours.

It's your parents screaming at each other to 'fix' the child.

It's sleepless nights and your friends asking why you have panic attacks.

It's developing anxiety, and your brother becoming depressed.

It's bottles of meds on the kitchen table.

It's the numerous pills you have to swallow before school.

But it is also terror personified, nightmares plaguing you day and night, and being scared of anything and everything.

My entire life could be summarized in a thick book, stuffed full of drawings.

It sits under my pillow at night, and is tucked carefully into my bag by day.

I am a pen, I am the lilting flow of water, but I am, most of all, a wolf.

And I'm okay with that. But I'm not okay with my grandparents pretending I don't exist, just because my sister's bi.

No, I'm not.  

So shut up, you homophobic, insulting, idiotic, little cowards.

I will fight for my rights, don't you ever doubt that.

I am not afraid for me. I am afraid for my friends and family and the people who get bullied.

Because every day that they went to school, they had to put up with a patchwork of bruises, new and old.

They had to deal with stinging barbs, and taunts from stupid, ignorant people, who couldn't understand that 'different' doesn't mean 'bad'.

They had to deal with insomnia, and problems that a child shouldn't have to face.

Becoming bitter and angry and cynical, and writers. Becoming loving owners of animals and 'that person who scowls'. Becoming the girl with the notebook, the girl with the sketchbook.

The girl with the charcoal drawings of wolves.

With having their childhood brutally ripped away from them, and other, much worse things.

Names and punches and...

Well, I was bullied.

And yes, I'm bitter.

The End

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