I`m 12 years old. I`m in 7th grade. I`ve been bullied for some years.


I clean up the classroom, like usual. It`s become my duty. Or actually, I decided to clean up everyone else`s dirt some time ago and that`s just how it started. It`s become a routine now. Going through the floor with a broom, making sure everyone`s chairs are on the table and that the windows are closed.

I walk out of the door, wear my shoes and jacket and realise I`m missing something. My gym bag. Where is it? I start panicking a little. The teacher will scold me. But I brought it with me? I look for it everywhere – in the classroom, outside of the classroom, in the toilets, in the music room, in the library. You name it. I can`t find it. I panick even more.

The school bells start ringing. I need to hurry and go to the wardrobe, where everyone perhaps already have started getting ready for the gym. Every second Thursday we have sports at the end of the day.

I have no idea how to explain the teacher that I can`t find my gym bag. But hopefully, she`ll understand.

I walk down to the gym hall, meet my teacher and tell her. I tell her I brought with me my gymbag. I tell her I`ve searched everywhere for it, but I just can`t seem to find it anywhere. She tells me to look properly once more. And so I do. I look for it everywhere. I still can`t find it.

A frustrated me goes back to the teacher and tells her I have no idea where my gym bag is. The girls look at me while the teacher tells me I`ll just have to watch everyone else exercising. I have no other option.

During the two lessons I ask myself where I last put my gym bag. Where on earth could it be? I have no idea where it is, but I`m sure I brought it with me from home. The flashbacks tell me so too. This has never happened before.

After the lesson I talk with my teacher. She wonders where my gym bag is. I have had enough. I look at the girls. If looks could kill. I don`t know where it is, but I know for sure someone from my class had planned it all. I tell the teacher it must be one of the girls, who`re standing in the wardrobe with me and start staring at me. She tells me it`s crazy of me to blame them just like that. I have no reasonable reasons to do that. The girls start yelling at me and try to explain to me that I can`t accuse someone for something they`ve never done. I start crying, I can feel the anger burning in my eyes and I wish I could say everything I want to say.

If looks could kill.

I`m on my way home. Alone. I can`t wait to get home. I think about everything that has happened today and try to explain myself where my gym bag is. I still haven`t found it.

Just as I open the door at home I see the gym bag. It`s lying on the floor, right in front of me. I wonder what it`s doing there. Didn`t I brought it with me nevertheless?

My little brother says “I found it on the roof of your classroom.”

I start crying. I break down in tears. They had planned this and lied to me right in front of the teacher. Right in front of everyone else and me. I feel anger, but most of all I don`t know what to do. The teacher and everything she had said to me. I knew I had been right – of course the bullies would do something like this. But she didn`t understand me – nobody did. I don`t want to see that teacher`s face again tomorrow and I don`t want to have to deal with my class tomorrow. Why would someone do that?

There`s so much in this world that I don`t understand but right now I just can`t understand why a 12-year-old girl has to go through this.



  1. That’s so wrong! Makes my blood boil hearing how mean kids can be.
    Stay strong. Don’t let them beat down at your soul.
    Truthfully, your way batter off then them.
    You have kind, caring soul. You are girl with a big heart that will make difference in the world.
    Them , they just mean cold hearted ppl that unhappy with themselves

    Liked by 1 person

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