Hi, I go by my pseudonym Klaus Klavier for the sake of anonymity, but here is a story I want to be seen…
Middle school is where this story begins. Ever since 6th grade I was bullied… badly, and why? Because of my odd sense of humor, and the fact I am constantly talking, this led to people believing I was just plain stupid.
People also did not want to listen to what I had to say anymore and it was common to hear the phrase “who are you talking to?” when clearly I was talking to them and had initiated conversation prior to that, but they stopped listening because I’m an earful.
This pushed a lot of people away.
Also, my reputation preceeded me. I was the kid who always blurted out back in elementary school and knew all the answers, but I was vehement about what was right and what was wrong and I argued with teachers and I would throw a fit (which was just a lot of yelling) in front of teachers if they called me out on something I didn’t do. But if it wasn’t an immediate response they would put me in the corner or send me away because I was arguing with them, and that’s when I would begin yelling. I made people think I was insane by these actions when put all together.
Fast forward into middle school and people remember this and tell their friends who now know me, but I have no idea who they are. Luckily on the first day of school I met a kid who was not the same as me, but had a good sense of humor and got along with me. As well, another kid who I knew from 3rd grade who used to be a friend but disappeared for a long time showed up and was friends with the first kid.
So we had a trio of friends, which had branches to other groups of friends, so I had that. But it only helped a little when they weren’t in the same class as me and people would call me the whole assortment of “gay”, “homo”, or “fag” because I didn’t know how to stop talking. (And how they ever made a ridiculous connection like that is beyond me.) But it didn’t stop there. Insults to my father (who is a firefighter) began, like: “Your dad is a firefighter because he goes into a burning building in hopes it kills him so he doesn’t have to see your face again.”
This hurt me real bad even though I knew it wasn’t true, and I began to hate myself… a lot. I had gone to the office so much they stopped helping entirely because they were tired of dealing with it, and the whole “bully gets away Scott free when target gets in trouble” seemed to be what happened to me too. Although I never physically fought, I used a lot of verbal confrontation. Then, of course, I would threaten them because I wasn’t thinking, and they would run to the nearest adult and tattle– and guess who got in trouble.
This led to a self-esteem so low it was unbelievable. What’s worse is that in 8th grade, and sometimes even now in 10th grade, people will interrupt me in the middle of a long answer to a teachers question and yell “SHUTUP NOBODY CARES.” And only 10% of the time did the teacher say anything… even worse some kid began to bully me (apparently he was never good news and was kicked out of his old school for standing on a kids throat) and he threatened my life daily EVEN IF I GLANCED PAST HIM he would assault me with words of violence– he was a “teacher charmer”. You know, the type that sweet talks the female teachers and then the teachers swoon over them and can’t get angry about anything they do.
By this time I believed everything. I thought I was ugly, weak, unloved, a waste of life and I began to embrace dark music, not screamo, but pretty dark stuff. My friends were going there too, except their parents would let them dress in dark colors– I was lucky if I could leave the house with a shirt with a funny logo or graphic on it. (Moderately strict parents, what can I say.) But we were all “Edgar Allen Poe’s”, demented thoughts and made up stories were told for fun and we all were heading for an “emo” direction, none of us were cutters though, and we all had some kind of learning disability or emotional disorder so we stuck together and kept descending lower and lower into depression. This continued for a while.
Much later the term “brony” was just starting to become a thing, and my friends and I, all being from very conservative households, thought strongly it was a “gay” thing and we made fun of them.
Come the beginning of season 2, I was persuaded by some rather famous Minecraft modders (Jamioflan and the Aether mod crew) who I talked to on TheEspernet to check it out. I went into it open-minded and actually liked it, but I couldn’t tell anyone for a couple months because I was a closet brony. Eventually I told my friends, and two of them jumped on right away and went to watch the show and loved it. My best friend, though, took 3 months of peer pressure (lol) he said he would never like ponies, but that’s not what his fanfiction that he is writing says!
This turned us all around, the community has helped me feel less shame about myself, my friends and I have shot away from depression and are happier and more stable now than ever! Of course all that darkness resides in us still– theirs more than mine, but they only reflect that in their OCs names and looks. Other than that, the magic of friendship has gotten us though most of highschool as we are going on 11th grade this coming year, and all of us have changed for the better. Had this show not turned us away from depression, we probably would all be here today.
Well that’s my life story!