Basically, school sucks for me. I'm sure it does for you, too. I guess school hates us all.

I got on the bus and sat in the front seat. I always sat in the front to avoid bullies who sat in the back of the bus.

Students in my school always picked on me. They called me names and hurt me. I suppose they did it because i couldn't tell and i couldn't say anything. I absolutely hated it.

Imagine if your Mom comes up to you and tells you your bratty spoiled cousin that you HATE with every last cell in your body is coming to visit for 2 MONTHS. And she says that he's so innocent and cute and that she can't wait for him to come. You want snarl 5 mile's worth of curse words in a venomous reply to demonstrate how much you hate him. But you can't even say it, because she's your mother. And anger just builds and builds inside of you, but of course you can't do anything about it!

That anger mirrors the anger inside of me whenever i get bullied. And I'm too busy trying to manage that anger for anything to really hurt my feelings. I take anger management, but as you can probably tell, it isn't working that well. But despite my shitty life, I would never cut myself. I swore to myself I wouldn't.

The bus dropped the students off at my high school, Franklin High. I don't know who it was named after, and i didn't care. I wouldn't care if my school was named after Benjamin Franklin or Franklin Hall. It was just a little thing that nobody cared about.

I walked inside and immediately headed to my locker. I heard a voice just as i opened it.

"Well if it isn't Little Miss Silent Treatment!"

Great. Andrew Jaren.

Andrew was a guy who bullied me A LOT. He was a complete pain in the ass, to say the least.

"How's your day been?" He spoke in a teasing tone, because he had the satisfaction of knowing I wouldn't reply.

So i did something different. I wrote on my whiteboard.

It was better without you, asshole.

"Ooh, touchy!" He grinned. "Fine, Miss Bitch, I'll leave you be."

I wrote again.

Yeah, you'd better run. Or else I'll kick your sorry ass, you bastard.

I saw a flash of fear in his eyes. He knew i would do it, too. Not being able to speak meant whenever i did talk, you can bet i meant it. Andrew was just a wimpy coward. He walked away.

After i got my books, i went to the guidance office for my daily counseling. I didn't have to go, but i still chose to. That class really did help me not:

1: break down into tiny little pieces.
And
2: not kill any of my classmates.

I was allowed to express myself in the counselor's office. Whether it was ripping paper, punching pillows, crying my eyes out, or whatever. I am a Junior in high school, and just because I'm mute doesn't mean puberty is taking it easy on me. With the mood swings, and all, anyway.

Today, i wanted to talk to the counselor. Fine, if you wanna be nitpicky, i wanted to "communicate" with my counselor.

I walked into my counselor's office, Ms. Diane Smith. She is, hands-down, the nicest teacher I've ever known by far. She was, well, kind of the only friend I had here.

"Hello Victoria." Ms. Smith told me. "How are you feeling?"

I made a motion of typing with a keyboard with my hands to signal that i wanted to tell her about my dilemma.

"Okay." She nodded.

Diane opened up a small laptop and opened Microsoft Word. She then turned it around for me to type on it.

I started typing.

Why do they bully me? I hate that they see the perfect opportunity to strike at a girl who basically can't do anything about it. That whiny little asshole Andrew Jared was at it again. I hate it.

Oh, i was allowed to curse, by the way.

Ms. Smith sighed. "I'm really sorry, Vic. I really wish i could do more. I've filed so many complaints to the district, but they're too busy with the recent event."

She was referring to the fire that had destroyed the elementary school about a month ago. From what I had heard, a machine in the boiler room had overheated to freakish levels. A sensor in the boiler room usually would've warned the school about this, but for reasons unknown, the sensor had been faulty. When the custodian finally noticed the overheated boiler machine, he hit the fire alarm and told everyone the school was really going to explode. Everyone got out, well, almost everyone. When the machine exploded, it started a fire that pretty much burned the school to a crisp. But 4 sixth graders couldn't get out of the building, and they were currently in the hospital, their lungs being treated from the excessive smoke inhalation.

I get that, but...still...it's not fair. I typed.

"Life isn't fair," Ms. Smith chided. "You know that more than anyone here."

Yeah, you're right. But it still happens. And the bullying just gets worse. I swore to myself that I would never cut or commit suicide, so you shouldn't worry about that. But how should i cope with this criticism when the district is too busy to help with it?

"I'm not sure, Victoria." Ms. Smith shook her head. "How do your parents react to all this friction in your life?"

I didn't keep the bullying a secret from them, if that's what you mean. My mom got me a cool leather journal for my birthday yesterday. I think it was to give me something to express myself with.

"That's good." Ms. Smith nodded encouragingly. "I'm sure it will help. By the way, i want to ask, how's 17 treating you?"

My birthday in May represents a joyous time, a reminder, if you will, that the shitiest school year of my life is almost over. My fake formal writing helped emphasize on how shitty this school year had really been for me.

"I'm glad you feel optimistic about summer break approaching."

I want my junior year to be over tomorrow.

"I have a present that might cheer you up." Ms. Smith smiled and handed me an envelope.

I took it gratefully. Inside was a gift card.
"Free Ice Cream for 2 months!" Valid in June and July.

Thank you so much! I typed quickly. Wow, just wow. I can never thank you enough!

"Think of it as a reward," Ms. Smith imagined. "Congratulations! You survived 11th grade!"

I laughed a bit.

The bell rang. "You should probably get to second period now." Ms. Smith told me. "Good session?"

I nodded and shook her hand.

And it actually was a good session. Sure, my bullying situation was still a thing in my life, but just talking to my counselor helped me.

A/n This has to be the longest chapter i have ever wrutten before...

NEARLY 1,200 WORDS, PEOPLE!!!

Do I win a medal?