![]() But you have got to learn to stop taking photos of your body." Your father and I didn't look inside the folder. As I sat under the covers of my bed, sobbing, my mom sat in a chair across from me and said, "I'm going to leave these photos with you. When my parents showed up, they took the folder and brought me home. Some were on the windshield, and some were in a folder that had the words "Whore," "Desperate," "Slut," "Bitch," and "Cunt" written on it. But even after breaking up with me, he didn't want to date her.Ī few weeks later, someone printed out the waist-down nude photos I had sent Jack and placed them on and inside my car in the public school parking lot, where they were found by administrators. He broke up with me because he said he wanted more freedom, though friends who knew him told me Kristine had allegedly pressured him to do it because she secretly still had feelings for him. We never had sex, but we did "fool around" in a cabin behind his house once. By 11th grade, our friendship dissolved, and I started dating Jack*, a friend of mine whom Kristine had dated briefly in middle school.Ī few weeks into our relationship, I sent him photos of myself both fully and partially naked. I had a best friend during my early teen years named Kristine*. Though it gives important visibility to those who are struggling with mental health and bullying in high school, Hannah's narrative further alienates and stigmatizes "slutty" women. ![]() Those virginal or chaste students who are bullied are worthy of our sympathy and support, but so are students like me. That's the big difference between my story and Hannah's, and where I think 13 Reasons Why missed the mark. And I was being ridiculed and bullied for it endlessly. I was doing things at that age that many people found "slutty." I was discovering my sexuality in a way that I felt was empowering. ![]() I identify strongly with Hannah Baker's story in 13 Reasons Why, except that the rumors about me were actually true. I was tired of asking for help or looking for friends and only finding hate or apathy. What I did know is that I didn't want to deal with my life anymore. I didn't know at the time that it wasn't possible to overdose on antibiotics. I was 14 when I started cutting myself, and I was 15 when I locked myself in a bathroom stall at my school, sobbing uncontrollably, and swallowed a handful of antibiotics.
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