I was bullied as a kid. What a surprise.
What one would
call malicious mischief, I guess -- constant name-calling, the
occasional push and shove, some tossed rocks once, everlasting
ostracision. School was never a safe place for me.
I was fat and I was weird and I was never allowed to forget it, ever.
The best advice anyone could give me re dealing with bullies was Ignore
Them And They'll Go Away. Honestly, does that advice
ever work? I think whoever coined it drastically misinterpreted the technique of nonviolent resistance.
There's a scar
on the back of my head, right above where the skull starts. I've had it since an afternoon in the fall of 1987. I was
standing on a merry-go-round, wearing a
coat with one of those built-in scarves. I remember correcting my
balance, then suddenly the world went upside-downie.
I don't
remember much of what happened next, except it involved a lot of blood
and a lot of screaming. I do know the injury tally included a pair of
damn-near knocked out front teeth -- adult
teeth too, you can still see the damage if you look close -- and a
split scalp.
I'm grateful
for a few things when it comes to growing up; that after the divorce my
family moved around so much I never stayed in the same school more than
two years, and that it happened before
the age of cameraphones. Bad enough the bastards get their classmates
as an appreciative audience. Thanks to the Internet, they can play the
entire world for laughs at the expense of their victims. What is
peopleofwalmart but a bunch of bored children laughing
at the people who don't fit in?
Yes, I'm still
bitter and hateful. Full of anger that has no target and thus no way
to drain away, full of hatred for myself and everyone else.
There's nothing that'll unpoison those years of my life. You can't see the scar, but it's there and it'll never go away.
-BJ
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