Girls are vicious. They go behind your back and steal your whole world out from under your feet before you notice the steady breathing in your ear. They poach your friends one by one and turn them against you. They get to know you first so that later they can point out even your tiniest flaws to everybody. They make you feel completely alone. And because they don’t leave physical marks, they never get in trouble.

It happened to me twice. There were mean girls who pretended to be my friend and then betrayed me without a single thought. Didn’t they realize that I’m a person, that I have feelings? Did they understand how much it hurt when I saw them smirk at me sitting alone? Did it reach their ears that I spent every night at home crying and every morning before school begging not to go? What satisfaction did they get out of isolating me? And most importantly: do they look back now and realize how awful they were? I highly doubt it.

The first time, I was 11. I had a best friend with whom I spent every afternoon and weekend. Then suddenly she stopped talking to me. She left hateful notes in my binder and backpack. She prank-called my house and said rude things to my mother (thanks to Mean Girls for giving her that idea). She spread the stupidest rumors and made sure that nobody spoke to me. I spent my last day of elementary school crying in the cubby corner, surrounded by backpacks but otherwise completely alone.

The second time was in eighth grade. I was never close friends with this girl but we hung with the same group. She stole my best friend in the world from me, and when that didn’t break me she continued to take them all. She was cruel. She made everyone change seats in English class so every seat around me was empty. She spread a rumor that I cheated in order to get into an elite high school program that hadn’t accepted her. The worst came when I was out one Friday night and found texts from her on my friend’s phone. Someone I thought was my best friend had been talking with her all night, making fun of and complaining about me. When I confronted her, instead of apologizing or explaining, she cried, gaining sympathy from our other friends. Everything blew up that weekend. By the time I came back to school on Monday I had no one.

It’s not just the ringleader who is to blame in these situations, nor is it her second or third in command. It is the passive ones, those who refuse to pick a side, who should also be recognized. It is their cowardice that keeps them neutral, and they are no more friends to me than the ones who actively participated in the cruelty.

It’s just too hard to believe that people could be this mean to each other, right? Wrong. But because there are people with this cruelty inside them I have been able to discover the strength and passion within myself, and I refuse to be a victim.