Fat. Mean. Fag. Slut. Retard. Queer. Stupid.

He had reportedly been tormented by his classmates in middle school and again in high school, but administrators at both schools didn’t see the need to intervene. What was so special about this kid? This "special needs" kid? He was six feet, six inches tall, and weighed three hundred pounds. How could he be bullied?

Retard
Moron
Dumbass
Fat

He didn't fit in with what was "normal." And his classmates went out of their way to make sure he knew that… day, after day, after day… until he finally broke down.

On October 22, 2008, 14-year-old Jeremiah Lasater, who had been taunted and even had food thrown at him during lunch, locked himself in a bathroom at Vasquez High School in Acton, CA, and shot himself in the head.
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She met him on MySpace; she said he was 16, and that he was hot. The girl asked her mother if she could add the boy to her MySpace page, and the mother said okay. After a few weeks, she received an odd message from the boy. He said he didn't know if he could be friends with her; he'd heard that she wasn't nice to her friends.

The next day, at school, the girl handed out invitations to her upcoming birthday party. After class, she raced home to see if that cute boy had responded. She still wanted to talk to him, even though he'd said mean things to her. Her mother, who was monitoring her daughter's MySpace page, signed on to the account. But she was busy; she had errands to run; she couldn't stay by her daughter's side and see what messages the boy had sent.

Mean
Slut
Fat

Twenty minutes later Megan Meier hanged herself in her bedroom closet.

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His friends knew him as "Twiggy" for his lean, 6-foot-1-inch, 112-pound physique; he had a dry, quick wit and musical talent; he played piano, enjoyed video games, anime, Harry Potter books and "cracking puzzles." He was a nice kid, what one might call a normal kid; quiet and shy, but outgoing with his group of friends.

But he was other things to a group of bullies at his school. He was a target; he was picked on, taunted, shoved in lockers. Most of the taunts were related to him being considered gay, though his parents said he "didn't identify himself that way." He was a skinny kid, a nerdy, normal kid, who became the bullseye for the bullies in his class. He tried to ignore the teasing, but did complain to a teacher, who responded by moving the bullies' desks; that only made it worse.

Gay
Fag
Queer
Homo

Seventeen-year-old Eric Mohat was harassed so continuously in school that when one bully said publicly in class, "Why don't you go home and shoot yourself, no one will miss you," he did.
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He was just eleven when he took his own life. He was just another "normal" kid, except for the bullseye attached to him by other students. He played football, basketball, and was a boy scout, but that didn’t stop kids from harassing him, called him gay and making fun of him for the way he dressed.

His mother knew he was being teased at the school; he was being made fun of; he was being bullied.

Fag
Gay
Queer
Homo

His mother had alerted the school about the bullying; about the gang that threatened to kill him; about the girl he bumped in class who said she would kill him. She said a mediator came in to resolve the dispute.

The resolution? Have the boy and his tormentor eat lunch every day.

It was too much. Carl Joseph Walker Hoover was so overwhelmed by bullying that he committed suicide by hanging himself with an extension cord.
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Where does this end? Or does it? When do people step up, and stand up, to this kind of abuse?

I know these kids; I was some of them. I know how it feels to be picked on, then and now. All it takes is a snide comment overheard and suddenly I'm twelve again, being called a fag in class; or fourteen and being called a queer because I'm no good at baseball.

So, when do we stand up and say that this is enough? I think it's past time for us, all of us, to stop this kind of abuse, whether it's hurled at an eleven year old boy, or a girl of sixteen, or a grown woman in the grocery store.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me.

Yes. They do.