by Anonymous
No one should ever be scared to go to school, for whatever reason. I remember being scared to walk into class. Being scared to speak up, to say anything to draw attention to myself, for fear of getting a negative reaction. You probably don’t remember this. I do.
I remember being scared to walk into math class. One of the only two classes we shared. I’d come in, sit down at the back, and then tensely wait your arrival, for a nasty remark to come my way, for my chair to be jogged. You’d engage your friends into the name calling as well. I remember having to run out of the class under the thinly veiled excuse of needing the bathroom, locking myself in the stall and crying quietly against the door. You’d tell me I was worthless, that everyone hated me. That I should die. I tried to be strong, but there’s only so much one person can take. You probably don’t remember this. I do.
I was scared. After a while, it became physical. Tripping me in class, sticking notes on my back saying despicable, trying to injure me or scratch me in PE. I’d end up coming home sobbing, with bruises, and teeth marks on my hand. It was the only way I could stop. I have no visible scars except one: a burst nerve from one bad day. I didn’t want it to happen. But throughout it all I kept asking- why me?
Why me? It wasn’t my fault. You messed up, you’re the one who did something wrong, you stole what was mine and I took it back. You held that grudge and made my life a misery because of it! It was never my fault.
The final winter was so much worse. The affliction was every day, over and over. And then you tried to kick me in the face in PE, I nearly twisted my ankle and when I asked you why, why me, you said it was because you hated me, that it was my fault you were like this, that I should only blame myself for the way YOU were. It was enough. Someone finally, finally reported it to my mentor, and we got called in to see our head of year, both of us. When he got a grasp of what was happening, you got in huge trouble and was told to stop this immediately, I could have yelled, screamed, thrown up. The knowledge that it wasn’t going to happen anymore was elating to understand, to feel. I came out of that room feeling lighter than I had ever been in three years. I don’t know who reported it, probably never will, but I thank them so, so much.
I’m happy now. I slowly regained my one eroded confidence, and am now fine. I enjoy life. I developed a thick skin. But every time a teacher says how bullying free our school is, I snort, because I am a living example that it is not the case. It’s why I always take pains to stop any insults thrown around, because I know how breaking it is.
The bullying made me who I am today. I talk about it freely. But every time your eye catches mine in the corridor, those feelings of fear and rage come flooding back, just from that glint in your eye as you try to jog my shoulder.
‘You’re next.’
Now I just dodge, smile and laugh it off. I don’t care. You’re just as scared as I am, and you don’t scare me anymore.
