to the bullied

I was never well liked growing up. I was bullied a lot. I was tortured. At the ripe age of 5 I was handcuffed to a merry-go-round by one of the neighborhood kids and spun around, hair dragging in the dirt and left there. When I was in fourth grade, my thyroid went out on me and I gained a lot of weight. I was bullied for being fat. In eighth grade, when I made the cheer squad, someone spread a nasty rumor that I was a lesbian and was only doing it so I could touch other girls. In high school, I was oinked at in the hallways.
I’d like to tell you that I was graceful about it all. I wish I could tell you I didn’t let that change me. I wish I could tell you that I didn’t cry all the time. I wish I could tell you I laughed about it later.
I was an outcast. I always have been. I come on too strong, I cling to friends when I find them. I annoy others quite often. I have people that I didn’t treat very well and who still hate me to this day.
But, I can say now, I am a child of God. You can call me all the mean things, you can leave me out. You can bully me, talk about me behind my back, you can mistreat me. I do not care anymore. I am a child of God.
He has fixed my broken soul. He has wiped the tears from eyes. He has filled me with joy in tomorrow. He has fixed me. And some day, He will turn all of this suffering into praise. Don’t get me wrong, I still have feelings. And they still get hurt. But I don’t let them change me anymore. I don’t let me mold me. My mold comes from God. My mold is now a Christ-like mold. And I’m doing my best to fit into that. I’m doing my best.