Dear Mummy.

I've been blogging for three years now. I've been bullied for much, much longer than that. And I try to pretend to be okay with it, really, I do. But when you cry yourself to sleep, when you fly into murderous rages you know deep down that you're really not okay with it. I'm tired of being picked on, mummy. I'm tired of being told that I'm wrong and they're right. I'm tired of being squashed.

All I've ever wanted to do is write. I've been writing since I was a little girl, and it's the only thing I'm good at. I want to make people happy; I want people to read my writing and learn, and to laugh and cry. It makes me happy when people enjoy what I write. And when this is your whole life, it hurts when people are so callous.

People forget that people on the net are, well, people. I'm only fifteen, and I've been sick and lonely for a lot of my life. I was bullied a lot as a kid, and people don't understand mental disorders and depression in young children. So I battled it out alone.

It was this blog that kept me strong. It was ranting and raving and whining on this blog that made me brave. And as I got older my opinions got bolder, and I post them here, on this blog, to make a stand; to tell the world what I think. So many people do this, mummy; so many people make big changes by writing. but it seems like every time I do, I get attacked for being...well, for just being me. I can be strong and brave, mummy, but I'm tired. I'm tired of being picked on. I wish people could see my point of view, understand where I'm coming from, agree to disagree. But they don't. All they do is call me ignorant and stupid when I've probably had more education than any of them ever had.

I wish all this stuff didn't affect me that way it does, mummy. But it does. But I'll keep pretending - for you, mummy. It's the art of being a woman; it's the art of being a writer.