Bullying = Suicide
By: Pamela L. Wiley
May 18, 2010
This is a letter written by a young girl who was bulled all her life.
(Not a true story but one that has happened over and over again)
I am writing this letter to tell you that I am gone. I can’t take it anymore. Everyone is so mean to me. Just because I’m different, it’s not right and it hurts, my heart hurts …
Every day I would come home and cry. I know you could hear me, yet you did nothing to stop it …
Their words cut me deep and the scars kept getting bigger. It hurt so much; I just wanted it all to stop. This was the only way to stop it from hurting …
I took some pills today. They seemed to have numbed the pain. But I can still feel the scars, pulsating behind my chest. There waiting to bust open again …
The pills aren't working anymore, please make it stop. I saw a girl with cuts on her wrists, maybe that will help numb the pain … I couldn't do it, it hurt too much …
Today a kid pushed me against my locker and laughed at me. Why did he do that? I didn't do anything to him …
No one’s home, I can’t talk to anyone. No one would understand; they don’t know how I feel … Maybe I can stop the pain …
I took dads six pack of beer from the refrigerator … and I found the rope in the garage …
I took the chair and placed it in my closet … I took the noose and placed it over my head tightening the knot …
I kicked the chair from underneath my feet and dropped … It only hurt for a second and then everything went dark …
I miss you all but I had to do it …
Monday, July 25, 2011
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Writing Experiments
Gold Shoots!
A writing experiment that I did when I took creative writing. A revised version of what happened when I found out that my Grandmother had passed away.
__________________________________________________________
Gold shoots into my room as the sun begins to set. I wake from my nap feeling grateful that I didn’t have school the next day. I ran down the hall but was met with two sad eyes. My father pulls me into a hug as he starts crying. He sets me down on the torn junkyard chair that sits in the living room. He composes himself down and tells me that he just got a call. My grandmother who had been fighting cancer for a long time had passed away in her sleep. At first I couldn’t put it together, I guess I was trying to be strong, but then a painful lump formed in the back of my throat and my eyes began to water. A single tear fell onto my arms which were crossed along my stomach. Then as if someone had punched me across the face I screamed and cried till I couldn’t breathe. My grandmother was dead just five days after we celebrated Christmas; just a few moments after we had left from seeing her; a few moments after I told her I loved her, after I told her that I would see her tomorrow, after I told her goodbye.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
If I were …
Another writing experiment that we did in creative writing.
________________________________________________________
If I were an Eagle with a bad eye …
Standing on the edge of the twenty foot cliff I could feel the breeze flutter through my wings. My mind wandered to my family who had left me alone to die. My birth was a miracle I heard my mother say a lot to my father.
“She’s too weak.” My father would reply with a voice of an ancient Indian Chief.
I could hear my brothers and sisters playing happily but with the forbidden sight in my left eye mother would not let me play.
I remember the air changing from warm to cool.
“We must leave.” I heard my father saying.
“But what about her, she won’t be able to fly.” My mother’s voice was sharp, hardened by something I couldn’t see.
“We have to go.” My father said sternly.
And with a sad look in my mother’s face my family was gone. I was left alone to fend for myself, to die.
Many moons had passed the seasons changed and so did my home and so did I. I had survived, teaching myself to fly so that I could search for the family that had abandoned me. I would show them, make them see that I didn’t need them, that with just one eye I survived death.
A writing experiment that I did when I took creative writing. A revised version of what happened when I found out that my Grandmother had passed away.
__________________________________________________________
Gold shoots into my room as the sun begins to set. I wake from my nap feeling grateful that I didn’t have school the next day. I ran down the hall but was met with two sad eyes. My father pulls me into a hug as he starts crying. He sets me down on the torn junkyard chair that sits in the living room. He composes himself down and tells me that he just got a call. My grandmother who had been fighting cancer for a long time had passed away in her sleep. At first I couldn’t put it together, I guess I was trying to be strong, but then a painful lump formed in the back of my throat and my eyes began to water. A single tear fell onto my arms which were crossed along my stomach. Then as if someone had punched me across the face I screamed and cried till I couldn’t breathe. My grandmother was dead just five days after we celebrated Christmas; just a few moments after we had left from seeing her; a few moments after I told her I loved her, after I told her that I would see her tomorrow, after I told her goodbye.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
If I were …
Another writing experiment that we did in creative writing.
________________________________________________________
If I were an Eagle with a bad eye …
Standing on the edge of the twenty foot cliff I could feel the breeze flutter through my wings. My mind wandered to my family who had left me alone to die. My birth was a miracle I heard my mother say a lot to my father.
“She’s too weak.” My father would reply with a voice of an ancient Indian Chief.
I could hear my brothers and sisters playing happily but with the forbidden sight in my left eye mother would not let me play.
I remember the air changing from warm to cool.
“We must leave.” I heard my father saying.
“But what about her, she won’t be able to fly.” My mother’s voice was sharp, hardened by something I couldn’t see.
“We have to go.” My father said sternly.
And with a sad look in my mother’s face my family was gone. I was left alone to fend for myself, to die.
Many moons had passed the seasons changed and so did my home and so did I. I had survived, teaching myself to fly so that I could search for the family that had abandoned me. I would show them, make them see that I didn’t need them, that with just one eye I survived death.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Mckenna's Poem
Today we cry,
Shed our tears of sorrow,
Sadness,
Wipe away the pain, and anger,
Small hands they were,
Bright,
Beautiful eyes once opened,
No closed,
Broken hearts and a small grave
Is all that's left of Lil Mckenna Jean.
Even though we never meet I will miss you Mckenna.
She never had the chance to walk or tell her family or parents that she loved them. Her life was taken from her by the cruel thief known as death.
She would have been two months old yesterday.
Shed our tears of sorrow,
Sadness,
Wipe away the pain, and anger,
Small hands they were,
Bright,
Beautiful eyes once opened,
No closed,
Broken hearts and a small grave
Is all that's left of Lil Mckenna Jean.
Even though we never meet I will miss you Mckenna.
She never had the chance to walk or tell her family or parents that she loved them. Her life was taken from her by the cruel thief known as death.
She would have been two months old yesterday.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Lies
Lies
By: Pamela L. Wiley
March 28, 2011
Lies, all I hear are lies,
Playing in the sandbox,
Hiding in lockers,
Laughing in the corner.
Lies, they fill you up with hate,
Gives you room to make all the mistakes,
Makes your heart ache with anger,
Kills all the joy inside.
Lies, there's no need to hide,
You fuel the darkness and then bring forth the light.
By: Pamela L. Wiley
March 28, 2011
Lies, all I hear are lies,
Playing in the sandbox,
Hiding in lockers,
Laughing in the corner.
Lies, they fill you up with hate,
Gives you room to make all the mistakes,
Makes your heart ache with anger,
Kills all the joy inside.
Lies, there's no need to hide,
You fuel the darkness and then bring forth the light.
Friday, February 4, 2011
A Rev's Poem
A reverends poem
By: Pamela L. Wiley
February 4, 2011
Hell!
Hath no fury like a woman scorned,
Hell, hath no happiness in the heart of evil,
It is the pit of fire,
The walk of shame,
The endless, painful suffering we bring to ourselves.
Heaven!
A home of the free hearted,
Heaven, hath no time for the wrong doers,
It is a place of happiness,
A place where you fell no pain,
A place of light.
Great is he,
Who walks among us,
Who gave his life
On the cross of sin.
By: Pamela L. Wiley
February 4, 2011
Hell!
Hath no fury like a woman scorned,
Hell, hath no happiness in the heart of evil,
It is the pit of fire,
The walk of shame,
The endless, painful suffering we bring to ourselves.
Heaven!
A home of the free hearted,
Heaven, hath no time for the wrong doers,
It is a place of happiness,
A place where you fell no pain,
A place of light.
Great is he,
Who walks among us,
Who gave his life
On the cross of sin.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Phone Messages!
Thursday, Dec 16
Exams the plague that spreads, that slowly eats away at my sanity, kills my spirit and haunts my dreams though I do not sleep.
White, Green, Yellow, Red these are the colors I most dread for they share happiness at this time of year.
Him, he who haunts my dreams, who cuts open my soul eating away at my happiness, he who murders my childhood, he who has taken away everything.
Snow I should be happy but the snow does not make my heart sing with childhood joy and happiness but leaves me with sadness because I am a failure.
Exams the plague that spreads, that slowly eats away at my sanity, kills my spirit and haunts my dreams though I do not sleep.
White, Green, Yellow, Red these are the colors I most dread for they share happiness at this time of year.
Him, he who haunts my dreams, who cuts open my soul eating away at my happiness, he who murders my childhood, he who has taken away everything.
Snow I should be happy but the snow does not make my heart sing with childhood joy and happiness but leaves me with sadness because I am a failure.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
An Excerpt From my fan fiction "My Heart Before the Pack"
... I opened my door and started walking along the beach. There was a nice breeze and the cold wind helped calm me down. All of a sudden I felt this sharp numbing pain in my stomach. I never felt anything more painful in my entire life. I thought maybe I can walk it off but every move I made, made the pain worse. I leaned against a few rocks to help keep my balance. I ended up in the woods a few feet from the beach. I couldn't’t take the pain anymore and finally collapsed on the forest floor. My body was shaking and the pain became too much to handle. I felt like I was going to die, I asked to die just to make the pain go away. But then I heard a deep voice telling me to hold on that I was going to be okay. I looked around but no one was there. That one voice turned too many. ...
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