Bullying

She pulls in one long shaky breath to steady herself.

Staring down at her notes, she begs her eyes to focus on the words.

Her pen shakes slightly in her sweaty grip.

She can hear them talking behind her,

and they know it.

They love to see her fighting back tears.

It makes them feel powerful, in control.

But she deserves it, right?

At least, that's what both parties tell themselves.

If I wasn't different, she tells herself...

If she looked the same,

lived in the same house,

wore the same clothes...

but it wouldn't matter.

Not the clothes, or the makeup, or the sports teams.

Because they needed a victim,

and even though she looked exactly the same,

they would always tell her that she was different.

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