I'm only eleven. I'm in grade seven. I got into a fight with these girls in my grade. I take judo and ju-jitsu; I know how to fight. Still, the odds were more than unfair. I came home bruised and my mother yelled at me like it was my fault. Yesterday, these eight-grade girls tried to light my hair on fire when I cut through the park on the way home.
I'm twelve. I'm in grade eight. I have boobs now, and not all the other girls do. They call me a slut and a whore and write it all over my locker. I have a boyfriend, not my first. I'm doing what everyone else is doing, trying to be cool. Every once in awhile, my older friends will be shocked when I hint at what I've done. I thought everyone had experienced blow jobs. I mean, we're all mature now.
I'm thirteen. I'm finally in high school. I cut my wrists, though I have to be careful so that the girls don't notice at judo. I hate my parents. They push me too hard in everything, and my body is already succumbing to stress fractures and constant pain. They're so perfect in front of everyone else, but the fights are constant at home. They tell me I'm stupid and ugly. No one believes it's that bad.
I'm fourteen. I don't have many friends. My parents are too involved in my activities, and have managed to get into a fight with my best friend's dad. We aren't friends anymore, none of the girls will talk to me now. I quit judo, the ju-jitsu club fought its way into oblivion. I can't go back when they all hate me. I make videos of myself that you wouldn't approve of. I don't respect myself. How can I, when no one else does?
I'm only fifteen. I've moved out of my house. My parents started to hit me, they called me a slut and worthless. My aunt is helping me to officially become independent from my parents. I'm working two jobs to pay for my apartment. I quit doing drugs, I quit drinking. I'm away from my parents and their put-downs. Until the cops drag me home, and stand in the doorway listening to my parents scream.
My brother is only thirteen. He is doing shrooms and binge-drinking and thinks he's so cool.
I'm only fifteen, and I can't go to school because I have to make my own way through life. I have parents, but I can't live with them when they act this way. My brother is heading down the road to self-destruction. I'm not a bad person. I tried to make them happy, I tried to please everyone. I'm not a virgin. I don't know where to go, except where I am now, working to make ends meet and running from the cops because I am afraid to go home. I don't know how I will get on with life.
I'm not a child.