Where was this rule that I must be like you? A poem about bullying

CW: suicide, self harm, bullying, abuse, T transphobic word

Where was this rule that I must be like you?

He, she, it.
You couldn’t decide.
So I was all three
Or none at all

Tranny came next.
You insisted I was one,
You told me a tranny was a freak,
Just like me you said.

You whispered as I walked past
“What is it? A girl, no way it’s a boy”
Except you never decided on boy or girl,
Freak and weirdo were what you deemed me.

Even those I called friend had a name for me
Goy
This weird combination of a boy and a girl
That’s what they told me

Then peodphile,
Rapist,
Pervert
Were added to your collection.

Every day for years and years,
So I started to believe the words,
Am I really that evil,
Will I turn out to be those things I asked myself daily.

Freak and weirdo,
That’s what I was to you,
Everyday you shouted all these words at me,
In fact every minute of everyday.

Why so weird I would think to myself,
You laughed at my love for classical music
Called me freak for not having heard of your favourite pop artist
I never laughed when you hadn’t heard of classical composers.

Everything about me was wrong to you
It wasn’t how I was supposed to be.
But how was I supposed to be I would think to myself,
Where was this rule that I must be like you?

Twice you tried to kill me,
I’m not even joking.
Cold blade of a saw against my neck.
A firework and lighter in my face “we’ll blow you up you yelled”

You spat at me,
Punched me,
Tripped me
And kicked me.

You stole my belongings
And laughed so hard when I got upset.
Then called me names,
When I wouldn’t dare let you borrow my things.

You told me I should die
That everyone would be better with me dead.
I started to believe you,
Then I believed you so much I had to take action.

I stole a few pills at a time
Collected them up
Then one night I took them all, wanting to die
I was 17.

When I woke up the next morning,
I was angry as hell
Because I couldn’t deal with facing you
I couldn’t do it anymore.

There was one way I had managed to survive so far,
My skin flowed with red ink
A knife was my pen
Cutting open my skin was the only way to survive.

At 18 I physically left you behind
Yet mentally you’re always with me.
Belittering me all the time
I wonder if you even remember me?

My scarred mind and body certainly remember you all
You told me I should be dead so many times
And tried to kill me twice,
I’ve tried to kill me so many times more.

I’m still convinced I’ll be evil
That evil person you said I was
I’m reminded of it all the time
Your words are in my mind everyday and I wonder,

Will I ever be free?