Hello all! Oomaloo here to share my own story in this fantastic book.

My heart bleeds for all those who have put up with sexual abuse, and you'll see why later. I still feel like such an ass, but lets start with the begining, shall we?

When I was five years old, I began my rather feeble acting career at a Broadway style theatre known as NarroWay. I loved it with all my heart, but for nearly six years, my self-esteem was non-existant. I felt fat, useless, and I had severe panic attacks until I was seven.

My life situation wasn't the best either. Along with NarroWay, I was living in an abusive home. My dad was a high-functioning alcoholic, but it did mess with his brain as it would mess with anyone. He was mean to me and my mom, but he didn't hit us or anything. In a way, I wish he had hit me. It would have been quick, unlike the mental scars he has left me with almost eight years later. I considered killing myself before I even knew what the word suicide was.

Now we get to the fun stuff. I started public school in the middle of my third grade year. I had a funny accent (Scottish / English / Plain old American. I blame my dad for that.) and a goofy personality, but I had no self worth. I was someone who loved to make people laugh but feared being laughed AT. That made me a bully magnet.

I was bullied for about a year. By fourth grade, I had some of my old personality back, and was a 'gifed goofball'. I had made some very good friends and I was happy again after an entire life of a shitty crap.

And then I moved. Classic, isn't it? My mom packed up everything that was in my house and left.

So for two years now I have had to deal with my own tears along with my dad's, my moms personality change (Not to mention my own awkward-stage) and her new boyfriend, and school. I wasn't bullied as much, but I had no friends. I went to a small school in a small town where everyone had known each other since kindergarten. It was misery, but my mom didn't care about my feelings as long as she was happy. And she was happy living an hour away from my dad, and only seeing him for one day a week. Harsh.

I was an aweful mess of jumpy nerves, panic attacks and black-outs, depression and that pre-teen awkward stage. I was pretty much begging for attention and felt so lonely.

(Here is where a lot of you will start hating me along with the rest of my world)

Last year in sixth grade, I wrote a 'story' about a sexual assault that never really happened. I was doing it because my 'best friend' was to wrapped up in her own silly games to notice me, and I wanted attention. I am not a pity person, and I know my life could be a lot worse, but I was in destress, okay haters? I know I can only hold myself responsible for my actions, but it was such a confusing time.

Apparently I had filed a false police report and was 'arrested' (My councillor says they were trying to scare me.) I have another month of arbitration, and I have a councillor to help with my depression, anxiety, and coping skills.

Other then life issues I won't trouble you with, I myself am doing much better. I am going into the seventh grade a happy twelve year old, even if my life is screwed up beyond repair.

I think I wrote this story to all those bullies out there. Even if I didn't touch much on my three or four years of bullying (Outside the home, and NarroWay.) you just have to remember that some people have really screwed up lives, and you might want to take that into consideration before you help push a teen to suicide or screw up a friendship for an 8 year old. Just chew on that, haters.

I am proud to say I, H. Noelle, am no longer bullied and I am regaining that long lost goofy personality, along with my self worth and rose colored glasses.

Lots of Love,

Noelle