When I look back over my school days, it is hardly a history of good times. It was more a place of torture, with great physical and mental pain.
I remember being hit at with a hockey stick. This hurt almost as much as being told to stick it when I tried to enter and join in close, tight-knit groups.
I was forced to stoop, in all sorts of ways. All my efforts came to nothing, even when I gave the girls money to buy lollies, and lent them my Sweet Dreams teenage romance novels (pictured), which I never got back.
How I wish my days at high school, particularly those spent in my last co-ed school, had been just like in the Sweet Dreams books, where – in my imagination – I was liked and accepted by everyone, and even made the other girls jealous with my gorgeous boyfriend.
When I think of school, all the bad memories come flooding back. There were times where I hated school so much that I would avoid going altogether, or pretend to be unwell and hide away in the sick bay.
During my schooldays, I was kept at bay. At one school, I felt as miserably grey and blue as my uniforms. I was often picked on for my poor form, especially when playing sport. One girl said I ran like a pansy. Other girls would call me retarded. It was no wonder that I would often run late to class. I became used to girls moving their desks away when I tried to come close to them. In many ways, I had to learn to entertain myself.
I would often go to the library, where I would avidly read books and magazines. This was my escape while I was eating the last scraps of my lunch alone in secret. In many ways, I felt like I was leading a secret life just like many people do today, on the internet pretending to be someone they are not.
I hid behind my books. I imagined myself as a beautiful romantic heroine, or stunning model on the front cover of a magazine. As I kept fantasising, I felt I had the whole world, or at least the most popular boy, like putty in my hands.
I think about the cyber bulling today. Many people get lost on the internet. It is a world that fosters deceit, with many people posting false profiles.
At least I could see through the two faced girls at school, and I had the sympathy of the school counsellor, favourite teachers, and the nice girls who would stick up for me. Now there are dreadful cases of cyber abuse victims who have no one to turn to and throw themselves in front of trains or buildings.
With the escape of books and writing, I gradually felt I was coming out of the woods, with an increasingly bright torch. I no longer felt scorched as I began to rise above my enemies, with my good marks and powerful writing, particularly in my final years at high school. Later on, with my public diagnosis of schizophrenia at the age of 27, I was on the receiving end of good turns by others, including those who had been my persecutors at school but now showed understanding and empathy.
I worry about the victims of cyber bulling, who must feel trapped in their feeling of total worthlessness. Just like trash left in the trash can. At least at school I could leave all the pain behind by going home. Often cyber bullies can harass their victims, wherever they are, even within the four walls of their own home, where I was able to feel safe and happy.
Now I believe I have moved beyond the pain of my schooldays and have come out winning. I really sense I have turned a corner, as noses are no longer turned up at me and I sometimes feel as beautiful as a rose. A far cry from being called fat and ugly, and having to put up with being given horrible names.
Finally I feel respected as a person and feel the pain of the silent sufferers of cyber abuse who are far away from the peace I now enjoy.
Isabella Fels is a Melbourne poet and writer. She has been published in various publications including Positive Words, Mental Illness Voice, The Big Issue and The Record.