Do you ever have one of these days on which the darkness creeps slowly from your fingertips to your arms and shoulders only to heavily rest on your lungs and your chest? It's a day like that for me. I don't know what really triggered me - maybe all my teachers telling me "wow I didn't know you could speak so loud! Why aren't you like that in class?!" after our theatre play - but all of my past memories started swelling up inside of me - they already did for a long time. Maybe this is the day to let it all out. The sadness I once felt every day for two years. It feels right. Maybe, I thought, maybe I could share my story on my blog, maybe I can inspire, encourage others to find a light out of the darkness, even if it perhaps never goes away. The reason why I intentionally made this blog.

This is my story.

The great downfall started when I was 13. I just hit puberty and I wanted to be liked by everyone - and I was, especially in that little town I grew up in. We moved away two years ago at this point.

The new school made it seem harder for me. All the girls were perfectly dressed up and so much prettier than me. They intimidated me. Still, I tried to become friends with them but we seemed to be so different, we didn't add up. I blamed it on myself.

On this specific day when I was thirteen - I think it was at the end of January, a Friday - I was happy and cheerful. Finally I got closer to someone in my class and we hung out the day before. She told me how she thinks a certain boy has a crush on me, I was excited. What she also told me was that she was gonna talk to our teacher because some of the girls in my class said they didn't feel well during out French lesson but instead of going outside, they smoked on the toilet. I told that girl she was right to tell the teachers about them.

So she did. In the first break she all let it out, came back and I still thought everything was fine. Oh, how wrong I were. After the second break, during which my classmates got called in because of this specific event, they went back to class and started speculating who could've told the teachers. I heard them whispering, making several suggestions. I tried to smile at them, as a sign of telling them "hey I wasn't the one, you're safe" but they ended up sticking with me. I was pretty bold, loud and extroverted, a good student and I was the one who raised her hand so often in class that the teachers were annoyed by it or said "does anyone else know the answer besides Sarah?". I also voiced my opinion. Maybe this was the reason why they picked on me. Maybe it wasn't. I will never find out.

In the next lesson, we had this subject that some of our grade, including me, did voluntarily, called "English conversation". I loved it as I loved English. I was and still am totally fascinated by this language. As I entered the room, a girl from another class asked me about the incident with the girls. I told her the truth, not knowing that anyone could ever use that against me.

This lesson, we had to write down some keywords to talk about ourselves. I already didn't feel very well because of the looks I could feel stinging down my spine. But I was still positive though. They can't actually believe it was me, can they?

The next thing I know is that this boy, oh this boy who then became my worst enemy, had to pick someone to read his text and he picked me. Don't get me wrong, I know it's not something that should affect you that much, but we had never talked to each other and I usually don't ever get picked for something like that.

My lungs started swelling up. I told the teacher I wasn't done yet. I saw the boy's mean smile. I tried drawing suns on my friends sheet to stop myself from crying in front of the whole class.

After the lesson, I just wanted to run straight home, lie down in my bed and cry for hours on end. I didn't want them to confront me because I was scared of what they would be capable of doing. But they got me in their circle before I could run away. They asked me "Sarah was it you who told the teachers?". I said "No. I know who did it but it wasn't me.". I hoped that was it. Still I cried all the way home.

I was scared of Monday. Well that doesn't exactly fit; I was terrified. For the first time in my life thinking of school gave me panic attacks, something I was supposed to get used to for the next 1 1/2 years. I went, still. I would never skip school for the sake of my mental health. I am a good student.

When I walked down the hallway, I could hear the whispers. "Hey that's the girl who told the teachers" "I hate her.". The laughs. I looked at the ground for the rest of the day, hoping if I could make myself as small as possible I would eventually just disappear. But of course I didn't.

The lessons were even more brutal. From raising my hand all the time, I decided to shrink, put my long hair in front of my face, hoping to hide my sadness and my anxiety. "The teachers will notice", i thought "They will ask me about it, I'll tell them and the they'll fix this.". They didn't.

This went on and on. Every day was my personal hell. I didn't want to live anymore. I wanted to kill this emptiness inside of me but I didn't know how and I couldn't ask anyone about it. There were even more snark remarks, mean comments hidden behind normal words so that the teachers wouldn't notice. Whispers. Laughs. Whispers. Laughs. I just wanted to scream GET OUT OF MY FREAKING HEAD PLEASE BE SILENT. Of course I didn't.

One night, I pulled the last bits of my courage together and told my mum I wanted to switch classes, I didn't tell her why but she started talking to our headmaster and all that kind of stuff.

Then it was the last week before the summer break. We did a short class trip; on the train ride home I sat isolated in a different part of the train, listening to sad music. Still, I was hoping, maybe fate is on my side, maybe tomorrow - the last day of school when we were supposed to find out - our headmaster told me, it was possible to switch classes.

On that day, I just completely zoomed out. maybe this will be the last time I'll ever have to endure this. I went to our headmaster. My heart raced. And then he said it. "Yes, you'll be in the other class next year.". I was relieved.

Two days before the school term started, my nightmares started as well. To say the least, I nearly couldn't sleep at all in 2013. Every night I went to my parents' bed and cried myself to sleep.

Anyways, on that day I started thinking "What if the new people don't accept me? They have heard the rumors, too. They'll hate me."

Mind you, the first day of school eventually wasn't that bad but I couldn't turn off my bad habits. I thought everyone was talking and laughing about me. I sank into my chair again, hiding myself away.

That year, teachers would tell my mum or me that I should speak up or even participate. What they didn't notice was that I just couldn't, like what if people will judge me? What if I say something wrong? I also started shivering hard out of nowhere during school days, for no apparent reason at all.

Flash forward to January 2014. At that point I have told some of my new found "friends" how it really went down in 2013. They believed me. But they were angry. They thought it was the fault of the actual girl that did it. They wanted to tell everybody. But I stopped them from doing so. I gave my then-friend a promise to never tell anyone about it, and I certainly won't tell the whole school. People would be cruel to her. She doesn't deserve it. So I took the weight on me.

On that day however, another girl - a really self-conscious one - was sitting on our bench in sport and for a tiny moment I told my friend she could tell her. She did. Afterward people were hardly discussing the subject in the changing room. I zoomed out. This had nothing to do with me.

The girls of my old class came to me and apologized. Of course I accepted, but my heard denied. All along an apology was all I wanted but couldn't they see how they destroyed me? How they broke me? When my friends asked me why I was so little euphoric I told them about how when you throw a stone into the water, many waves follow and you can't control them. And I was sure they waves will hit me again one way or another, no matter if I actually was the one to blame or not.

At that time, the 1989 world tour started. I soaked in Taylor's words. I cried happily when she followed me. I also cried when I drew a picture of Clean while simultaneously telling my friend how I actually felt when the rumors started, how I didn't want to exist anymore. Every time I look at that drawing I remember Clean playing in the background while my tears splashed on the page.

I went to the 1989 tour in Cologne when Taylor said "Everyone here has had rumors spread about them that weren't true, whether it was in the school hallways or on the cover of a tabloid magazine". I don't know if she actually read my post about everything that day because I reblogged it countless times. But that didn't matter. This sentence really got me because not only did one of the biggest superstars struggle with what I went through but there was also a bunch of people with me in this huge hall that understand me. Wow.

I became clean. I got better each day, making small steps, one at a time. I started with my perception of myself and then, when I got there, letting it take over how I acted around others.

Still, on some days like today, I feel sad. Teachers still call me shy. They still say I should participate more. Students do, too. It's as if for all of them my process is worth nothing or as if they're shutting their eyes of it. And then I start thinking "Why am I still fighting? Nobody cares anyway and I'll probably never reach the top of the mountain.". You just feel helpless and trapped.

And here I am today, not feeling to good to be quite honest with you but I just have to believe in that spark inside of me because this is the only thing that will never die.

If you are or were in a similar situation as I were, keep going. Keep going. You will make it through. And maybe along the way, we can help each other out.

Find a life of your own.

xxx Sarah