Your UnSlut Project

Submitted by @royadaydream-

My parents were unable to have kids for seventeen whole years. They resorted to many different surgeries and operations, and had an IVF surgery 5 times, all failed. IVF children are children that are created unnaturally; in a laboratory scene. I'm one of those children, born through an IVF surgery to my parents. I was a rare child; only 5 million of us IVF children exist right now. That's 0.7% of the world only.

I lived in a small town in the south of Sweden all my childhood. I met my best friend when I was 40 DAYS old, seeing as our parents were really close friends. We stuck together and did everything together, even though she was 5 years older than me. We can call my best friend Sarah.

I was born with a very unnaturally high IQ, 188, they said. This put a lot of pressure on me because people expected perfect grades and perfect studies from me. My parents are the worst when it comes to studies. Unless I get a 100/100 in every single class they won't leave me alone.

I was a kid with tons of friends, I knew everyone in our huge school, and I was one of those 'pretty and popular' kids all the way until I was 7 years old. Sarah moved to London, and my parents wanted to move too so I could learn proper English. I'd go to London for a few months and come back. During this time, people were starting to hate me, and when I came back one day from London, no one in school would even look my way unless it was to insult me somehow.

I then discovered that I had BPD: borderline personality disorder. People hated me, and my closest friend in school whom I would spend every weekend with admitted that she hated me and that the only reason she hung out with me was for my gifts, seeing as my family is really well off. Children in my school would pick on me and call me a slut, a bitch, a whore.

Apparently because of some rumor I'd never heard of while I'd been to London.

I'm very attached to the people I love, still am, and it hurt me that my friends would do that. It hit me hard when I found out that my friend had asked a teacher to rearrange my seat so that she wouldn't have to face me during lunch time.

Two months later, I moved to London. It was May, and school ended in July, but my mom insisted I go. I went and it was terrifying. Everyone spoke in a language I didn't understand and no one understood me but this Arabic boy called Hussain, since I also speak Arabic. (He has been diagnosed with leukemia this year - God help him.)

On the third day of school - it was a Wednesday, we had music class, and we'd been going up the stairs. I was the last girl in the line and there were a few boys behind me. That's when it started. One of those boys, a rude and very annoying one, pulled down my skirt completely. I had never been so humiliated in my life. I'd started crying and none of the teachers knew what had happened because of my lack of English. I'd gone home early and told my mom.

The boy was expelled and then everyone started insulting me. I never understood them, but it was obvious that they were insults.

A boy called Darwin had also been bullied because his hair reached just above his shoulders - that was for GIRLS, they would say. He was an inspiration to me. He stood up to them, defended me, and never cared about them. We became best friends from then, even though he had lived in Sweden for some time (He forgot Swedish though). Sarah and Darwin were my only friends. Darwin and I were top of the class. People hated it, they hated us. We even worked separately from the class - grade six material and we were in grade three. He helped me so much I'd nearly forgotten about my BPD.

In grade four, I moved to another part of London. Darwin moved to Canada. We stayed friends but my new school was worse.

It was a Catholic school and I was the only Muslim in it. I was picked on, called a whore and a bitch for having blonde highlights in my hair that my mum had gotten me, and people hated me for it. It was grade four and BPD returned. I started harming myself. I continued for 3 years. I moved to an all-girls private elite school. Things were better. People liked me; no one hated me for being a 'genius'.

Two months later, I moved to Iran. Sarah started bullying me. She started hating me and spreading rumors and she wouldn't talk to me. I didn't know because of the distance. 'It's her exams,' I'd tell myself as an excuse for her never replying to me. Last summer I went to London to surprise her. I was the happiest I'd been in years. She hugged me and pretended to be nice but then the insults came.

I was scared, I was shocked, and I had no idea what to do. One time, she held a knife against me, a large cut on my thigh was formed. I still have the scar to this day. It will never fade. I met a girl in my new girl school. Call her Emma. Emma helped me through it all. She'd make cringe-worthy comments to make me feel better. She convinced me that I was better than this.

I owe my life to her. I'd been feeling suicidal after Sarah. Darwin and Emma were all I truly had. A month ago, Darwin stopped talking to me. I was scared and I told Emma. Emma messaged Darwin through Wattpad. His insults still hurt. "Failed experiment." (The IVF, remember?) Slut, Whore, BITCH, Ugly, Fat.

And it hurt. This month, I changed. I threw out all the bad people from my life. I started poetry, my escape. I started being positive and letting go of the past, and I've never felt better. I know there is way worse out there, but I wanted to share my story. You guys, be strong.