Hear my cry: part 2

So I turned to writing. Paper didn’t interrupt. Ink didn’t judge. My stories listened when people wouldn’t. Every sentence became a quiet cry, every poem a breath I had been holding for years. Transformation? People call it that. Taking everything easy? They say it like it happened. But no such thing occurred. Only my tears dried up, and I learned how to carry the weight quietly. They drank my tears, ate my happiness, and turned what should have been my best childhood school memories into hell. This is not a story about weakness. It is a story about endurance. About a voice that was ignored but never erased. About a heart that kept beating softly, waiting for a moment to be heard. If you are listening now, know this: my cry was never meant to be loud. It was meant to be true. Remember this—bullying is wrong. In school. In college. At work. Anywhere. Bullying is wrong. — Aria Lune