A Note in the Drawer

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Dear Teacher,

I need to tell you something, but I don’t know how to.

 

Dear Teacher,

Where do I begin?

 

Dear Teacher,

They called me names again today. “Faggot,” “bitch,” and “gay wad” are some of them.

 

Dear Teacher,

He shoved me into the lockers. He threatened me to give him my new gym shoes I got for my birthday. No one else was around, of course. He took my shoes and threw them on the school roof.

 

Dear Teacher,

I found more messages on my profile from those girls in class that hate me. They keep posting these hurtful rumors about relationships that I never had. Things like how I had sex with all these guys in school. I’m still a virgin, but I don’t think anyone would believe me if I told them. The things they write make me cry at night sometimes. Why are they doing this to me?

 

Dear Teacher,

I was targeted again in the back of the cafeteria. He and his friends all laughed at me when he threw his can of half-drunken soda at my head.

 

Dear Teacher,

The other kids in my class are always making fun of me for how I dress. I try to look as nice as I can, but my mom and dad can only afford to buy me second-hand clothes.

 

Dear Teacher,

How can I talk better? I hate my stuttering. People are always mocking me when I speak in front of the class. No one wants to be grouped with me when we have class projects.

 

Dear Teacher,

Some of them tell me I’m a fuck-up and a douchebag. They tell me that they wish I was never around, and that I would be better off dead.

 

Dear Teacher,

I wrote a suicide note the other day. I never written one before, and was unsure of what to say. I still have it in my dresser drawer just in case.

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