I was third grade when you were fifth. You were older and you were one of the cool kids. Everyday I listened to jokes at my expense until one day you stood in the front of the bus. The driver gave you the wallow talkie the loud speaker and you sang a rendition of Drop it like its hot except you sang Drop a couple pounds you dedicated it to me before an after you sang it. You probably would have only sang it once if it didnt become a frequent request. I had to put earbuds on even if the other end wasnt in a audio jack. I had to pretend it never bothered me. I would even laugh along. Because at the one day I broke down, the one tear that ran down my face. Instead inflicting an act of mercy, you saw weakness and struck until you could until you moved on to the middle school but set an example for everyone in my class. Not until 8th grade when I fought it with my fists, every day was a new fight, it stopped. Because the ones who couldnt speak through fat lips and bit tongues set an example for the ones who were weaker than me. And everyday after that I found a new victim and became the very thing I only lived to demolish. So while you only remember bullying me, you have scarred us all.
Posted on: Wed, 20 Nov 2013 23:33:53 +0000
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