Creative Expression Contest Runner-Up 2006
"Under Your Words" - Essay
By Taneum Bambrick, Age 13
Morgan Middle School
Ellensburg, WA
Jan 06, 2006
Have you ever noticed the people in your school that walk alone? Do you see them with their eyes counting the stitches on the old carpets in the hallway? Do you witness them biting their lip in class when the teacher asks for the answer that they already know, but are too afraid to raise their hand and tell? They are too absorbed in the terror their surroundings create for them to draw any kind of attention to themselves. Can you really blame them? When you watch them trip down a flight of stairs do you help them up and gather some of their papers, or do you point and laugh, high fiving the guy who stuck his foot out to cause the fall? There is a wonderful girl at my school, who has never done anything mean to me or anyone else before, but is continuously bothered by people with no right to even speak to her. I try to help her sometimes, just in small ways mostly, but she always refuses any and all the things that I offer her. When you bully someone you tear their insides apart. If you can openly admit to doing things that have really hurt people with purpose and bad intentions, read this and realize the beauty that hides itself inside of your victim’s heart.
Silent, in the shadows of the thick built school walls, she sneaks to class, avoiding the eyes of the others as if they would be provoked to pounce with a simple glance. Her books hugged to her chest protectively, her uniquely green eyes reflecting the faces of those who she fears, the faces of those she secretly envies, the faces of her ignorant peers. Glasses perch atop her nose, their style tauntingly old fashioned, because of her lack of bravery, and boldness.
When she has a scrap of free time she draws and paints wonderful cheery scenes of mermaids, fairies, and unicorns. The colors of her creativity causing her to contrast in the middle of the other boy-obsessed girls. On the paper she imagines an entire new world, a world where she has a glimmering scaly tail, and even more odd, a group of beautiful mermaid friends. In her dreams they swim together in the depths of the exotic waters, and she tells them everything, while they listen intently. She began to shut out from the real world a very long time ago. She learned better than to trust any of her fellow humans, after numerous events proving association to be quite an awful idea. On her thick notebook she pours all of the sadness that boils within her, the sadness that has to spill over somehow, because she can’t contain it, there just isn’t enough room in her soul, for all that emotion. Having no friends, or family to turn to, what other choice does she really have?
She sits alone on Friday nights, with no phone numbers. She heard a whisper about a party, she heard the girl tell the other not to invite any geeks, but she turned away when the bossy one gestured to her as an example to her socially challenged friend.
As she wrote in her diary that Friday, tears streamed down her rosy cheeks, the pages of the poor old journal drenched in her sorrow. With every insult she tries to ignore, with every tormenting glare she blinks away, deep inside, pieces of metal form their way around an emotional shield growing in strength with every blow. She slowly forma a sort of shell around her, hiding her from the rest of the world, killing her senses wonderfully to drown the noises of their jokes, to fog the sight of their laughter, to lighten the weight of the harsh words they throw at her.
Every school has people like her, unique amazing people afraid to open themselves up. These are the people whose smarts dazzle us secretly, whose drawings shock us in such a great way, these people that we ignore and tease, how much do we really know about them? How much can we really say about them? “She’s got the same glasses as my English teacher.” “She wears her pants up so high, I wonder if she’s getting ready for a flood.” She hears you, but do you hear her? You have nothing to say but dimly thought-up jokes, when she has an actual life, when she is full of interesting thoughts, when she has never said an ill thing of you before. How can people live with themselves seeing their victims’ faces sink, watching the tears uncoil in their eyes…
How can these so called nerds be the better people when they are treated like the worst? Don’t fall into the ultimate pit, don’t be a bully.
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