Both Sides of the Front

I hear laughter.

I tense up.

"Nobody likes you."

"You're ugly.

I've heard these words before. 

Stupid words


But they hurt.


I shake my head. "No."

This happened years ago.

So why am I hearing these voices now?

I look up. 

There is a boy- dark hair, slumped over.

Eyes lined with tears.


They're talking to him.


Who is?


My friends.


"Hey," I say, my own eyes tearing up, "Stop it."


They don't hear me. Or they think I'm kidding.They keep teasing, cutting lower and lower blows.


Everyone looks at me.

I swallow. "Don't. People used to talk to me like that."

I stand up.

I walk away.


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