Ugly. Fat. Stupid. What do these words have in common? They were all spoken by bullies, and they all ended up causing Meg Thompson’s death.

Meg was short, a little heavy for her height, but in no way fat. She had long chestnut hair that flowed to tickle the small of her back and bright blue eyes as big as a baby dolls’, with light brown freckles across the bridge of her nose. She was extremely shy, didn’t talk much, and avoided crowds when she could. She preferred to find the people she wanted to associate with in her books.

A lot of people didn’t like Meg. I think they were jealous of her. She was truly beautiful inside and out. She had a very kind heart, and she volunteered at many charities, from feeding and clothing homeless to raising money for the local fire department. She intimidated the other people at school, because she made them feel like they didn’t do enough to help others.

“Hey, Cow.” Melissa pushed Meg against the lockers hard, forcing her head to bounce off of the cold steel. “Where ya headin’ off to in such a hurry, Moo?”

She stared at Melissa with wide, frightened eyes. “Please just let me go, I’m going to be late,” her voice trembled as she spoke. She inched out from between the lockers and Melissa, the bully backing her up to the staircase.

“Hey little miss stupid. I’m talkin’ to you, where you think you’re goin’?”

“Please, just leave me alone.”

Melissa shoved her down the staircase, watching as Meg fell to the bottom with a sickening crunch, her ankle broken.

“See you later, Shamoo.”

This was only the beginning of what was going to happen to her. Throughout the rest of the school year, with people bullying her constantly about her weight, she slowly became anorexic. Her weight dropped drastically, and she was weak and fainting easily from lack of eating. Next, the ugly comments came in and she spent hundreds of dollars on makeup trying to make them stop, to leave her alone and just let her be in peace. She fell into deep depression as the bullies got worse and worse. They had started to moo like a cow around her, and make hideous faces at her in a mockingly cruel way. She went home every night crying. Slowly, she stopped making her rounds to get donations from the fire department, and she stopped going to the soup kitchen. She was barely making it to school anymore. She e-mailed me:


Kayla,
I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I try, and I try, but they just hate me. I hate me now, too. I don’t see a reason to breathe, or to sleep, or to eat… I don’t even know why I’m waking up every morning, because I go to sleep every night praying that God will grant me mercy and just end it already. But it seems even he taunts me now. They are beating me up in school now. I tried telling the teachers, but they say they can’t get them in trouble for it because they didn’t see it happen for themselves. My mother is never home, she’s always out drinking. I don’t know what to do, Kayla. Please, I need help. I’m so depressed lately… I find myself tearing at my skin with my nails, but I can’t stop, because the physical pain feels better than what they are putting me through. I would rather them beat me to within an inch of my life than for them to keep putting me through the emotional torment that they are putting me through. What did I do to deserve this? Did I do something wrong? Maybe I did… It would explain a lot. Why my dad left when I was three… Why my mother is always out getting drunk and never seems to care where I go… Why they torture me so much at school… Oh, they have put up a blog now, did I tell you? It’s basically about how I should kill myself, and why. I can’t deal with this, Kayla… You’re my only friend. Please, tell me what to do.

~ Meg


I wrote back as soon as I got her e-mail:


Meg,

I can’t say I know what you’re going through because I don’t, but please, please, please!... don’t kill yourself. I am ALWAYS here if you need someone, I always WILL be here, you know you can cry on my shoulder whenever you need to. I love you, Meg, you are like my very own sister, and I don’t want you to feel this way. Those kids at that school are just that…. KIDS! They haven’t grown up! Please don’t listen to them, you are a wonderful person and I love you. Please respond as soon as possible, I’m extremely worried about you.

~ Kayla


But my e-mail came too late. A day after I sent it, I found an article online. Meg Thompson found shot in her bedroom. I broke down. I cried so hard, and cursed myself, saying if only I’d seen her e-mail sooner, she’d still be alive, swearing it was my fault she’d killed herself. She had left a suicide note not unlike the e-mail she’d sent me, stating how she didn’t see a reason she should “waste space,” and about how she’d miss her mother and I.

Why did I write this story to you? I wrote this to show you the effects of bullying. If you are a bully, STOP. If you see someone else getting bullied, stand up for them. Together, we can stop bullying. The school isn't going to do anything about it; it has to start with you. Don’t let more teens commit suicide because of bullying. It is never okay.