How do I deal with a bully

Somebody comes up to me at school today, and they say you look like a homeless piece of s**t who got their clothes from Wall-Mart.  What do I do?  What do I say?  The kid has been relentlessly bullying me, but the teacher won’t do anything!    The kid put a coupon for sketchers at Wall-Mart on my desk, and the teacher said they were being nice to me!!!

Can anybody help?


A true story — A true story


Ever wondered what it would be like to be a kid all over again?  Venture into the life of a thirteen year old boy with ADHD, who was adopted, whose parents are divorced, and is not allowed to see his dad.

And you thought adulthood was hard!

via A true story — A true story

A true story

It all started when I was first born.  That is where all stories begin.  A hero is born, he performs great deeds, and then we all die eventually.  This is a different kind of story, this is real.  This is a story about a real boy, who deals with real problems, and has to come up with real solutions. This is the story about me.

I was born shortly after my brother, Jaekob.  He is not like very many other people.  He was the only one who protected me when I was too young to take care of myself.  My birth mother did drugs while she was pregnant with my brother, and they affected him in many ways.  My birth father was an alcoholic, and I am pretty sure he was sent to jail or prison.

Me and my brother were taken away from our birthmother, and put up for foster care.  I was in foster care for nearly a whole year.  I finally met the parents that were right for me.  They took parenting classes, and they fought for us in court.  My birthmother was told that she needed to go to rehab, and a whole-lotta stress later… I had a new family.

My new mother’s name was Amy, and my new Dad’s name was James, but we called him by his nickname… Chip.  I guess you can call them mom and dad though.  I was finally safe from harm.

Unfortunately, nothing good lasts forever.


Now is the part in the book where we skip ahead.  My parents got divorced, my mom had my sister, my brother was out in a mental hospital (Let’s leave it at that) and then we were here.

I was given an assignment in language arts a few weeks ago.  I had to write a narrative about my life.  I decided to write about my stepmother and my father.  Here goes…



I took the news to heart. I despised my father for this. He married my evil, terrible stepmother and agreed with everything she said,  but I never expected for him to agree with something like this.  I was no longer allowed to see my father.

I woke up at my father’s house, and as I got dressed for school, I heard my dad in the bedroom  waking up my sister.  I slept in the dining room in a bunk bed with my brother.  Previously, my brother  molested me, attempted to light his shirt on fire, and cut a dog with a pair of scissors.  He kept  coming in and out of mental hospitals.  So when I found out I had to sleep in the same room as my brother with no adults, I realized that I would no longer be able to sleep.  I rarely slept, and was constantly looking over my shoulder.  I never did feel safe at that house.

My stepmother ( I call her my stepmonster) forced me to give her a hug before I left for school.  That was when things started to change.  That was when I really, truly realized that things would no longer be the same.  She had never forced me to give her a hug before.  Her and my father showed us her ring the night before, and she was already trying to take control.  Now that I look back on my life, I realize that her forcing me to hug her for the rest of my life was the least of my problems.

The next time that I went to my father’s house, there was a pile of clothes right in front of the door for me and my sister.  I looked at the clothes, and I really liked them, I wanted to wear them right away!  I was about to put on my awesome new green gym shorts, and a green shirt when my stepmother came into the room.

“We paid a lot of money for those clothes” she said “so we will be keeping them in our closet so that you don’t ruin them.”

“I am not going to ruin them!” I whined.  I was furious!  “Besides, if you think I am going to ruin my clothes, then why would you buy the expensive ones?”

“ Because we care about you,” She went on,  “ and we are not like your other mother, Amy, who only shops at Goodwill.”

She had gone too far! I was flat out enraged!  You can say mean things to me, but when it comes to my mother, you better expect for me to fight back.

“The clothes that my mother buys me are perfectly fine!”  I yelled.

“That is because you don’t know what normal clothes are like.”

Ever since that conversation, the first conversation I had with my stepmother, not just my dad’s friend anymore, I despised that woman.  I have some names I can’t even say, but I called her so many things in my head…

“Make  your bed.” = Whatever, she-devil.

“ Do the dishes.” =  I swear you are Lucifer’s daughter.

“Go to bed.”= You are so parsimonious, (mean).

I would never say any of those things to her face, but I still thought it.  One time, my dad and the she-devil took us to the water park.  I had to stay by my stepmonster’s side the entire time, and if I wanted to play in the water, I had to stay in the kiddie pool.  At the time, my mom had bought a ton of new stuff for me and my sister.  Our room was about to get a total makeover!  After we got home from the waterpark, I called my mom.  I told her about how I wasn’t allowed to go down the waterslides, and how I was told that when the family went on vacation, I had to sit out on the activities.

My father had listened to the phone call that night.  I felt so betrayed that he would even think to record my phone call with my mother.  My stepmonster wrote down a list of all of the bad things that I had told my mother, and she made me call my mother again, and  tell her that I lied about all of those things.  I know that she only did that because it proved my mother right that my stepmom was not kind to me. My stepmother hates ( and I mean HATES!!!) to be wrong.  After I told my mother that I lied about all of those things, she explained that she was going to have to take all of my belongings for my room back to the store.

A few months, and a ton of drama later, I was at my father’s house throwing a fit, when I threw a stool and it crashed with a bang.  My sister walked by at that moment, and it almost hit her.  My stepmother screamed at me.  About a week later, it was my sister’s birthday, she got a stack of presents from floor to ceiling ( I’m not even being dramatic) after my sister opened her presents, we had cake.  My sister got a HUGE piece, bigger than the one my dad got!  My stepmonster gave me a sliver of cake that was as thick as my thumb.  ( No joke)

About three days later, my life came crashing down.  My dad had to choose between his wife and his son.  He could only stay with one.  Either I was not allowed to go to my dad’s house anymore, or my stepmother was leaving.  I knew this because I learned a lot of things during the lack of sleep.  My dad made the choice that left a hole in my heart that could never be filled, and never will. He had betrayed me. I was not allowed at my dad’s house.  He chose my stepmother.