The Forum
To My Bully
SONGS:
"Already Dead" by Cherri Bomb -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DHZjqwyZJQ
"Mean" by Taylor Swift -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYa1eI1hpDE
*WARNING: WILL PROBABLY END UP CONTAINING LANGUAGE*
To my (favorite) bully,
I remember how we met. Eighth grade. The worst year of my life. Mostly because of you.
We were in English class. You were telling a funny improv story. Everyone kept saying it was lame, and I think I was the only one in there who actually liked it. So I laughed. And maybe you noticed me. Maybe I noticed you. But afterwards we just started talking. Your humor made me laugh. You liked to make me laugh. So it was nice. (It could have stayed that way...)
We started hanging out. Just talking. Nothing really special. I remember one of the things we had in common was music. We liked the same stuff. Music means so much more to me than it does to a lot of other people, so if someone likes my music, it automatically puts a good connotation to the sound of their name. That's just how I am. So, seeing as I didn't have much else to do, I typed up a nice, neat little graph of all of my favorite music in the genres we both liked. I gave it to you the next day. Cause I do that kind of stuff for my friends all the time. It wasn't anything special. But apparently, you thought it was, cause the next day, you came back with a thank you gift, acting all awkward about it. I don't know if you were just always awkward around girls or actually liked me, but either way, it was that that started our friendship.
It was the craziest friendship I've ever been a part of. Every day, we would do something new. Every day, you'd make me laugh, I'd make you laugh, we'd have fun. It was beautiful. It was amazing. It was…well, to be honest, thrilling.
After about a month or two , we made plans to play video games after school. I was excited. I'd never really had any good guy friends at school, so I was just excited to know someone. We played Terraria. Then, I guess you began to think of me as your friend, because you started telling me about your home life. My counseling/philosophical side kicked in, and I was able to comfort you. The game became something we'd do after school almost every day, and every day, I would help you reason through your home life.
I am a naturally empathetic person, to the point I feel everybody around me's pain almost just as much as they do, if not more. Not kidding. It's very draining for me. So, hearing about your problems made me want to help. And that's what I did. It also made me think about it a lot, and in turn YOU a lot. It wasn't a crush, I can guarantee that. I was never interested in you that way. But I valued our friendship a LOT. Almost to an unhealthy point, I think. I started to have insomnia, because the overactive part of my brain -- the part that thinks about all the things I don't want to think about just because I don't want to think about them -- decided to make a full on analysis of our relationship. Kids at school thought we should date. You still acted awkward around me sometimes, and other triggers made me think that maybe you did like me. I thought that maybe behind your clownish exterior, you were really just a fragile guy trying to cover up, who if you really liked me, then you would be broken if I turned you down. I cared SO much for you and for our friendship, that I almost came to the conclusion that I would have said yes if you asked me out, just because I didn't want to hurt you. But I never had to actually make that decision, mentally or verbally.
Because that's when it started.
You started to criticize me. At first I was like okay, no biggie. "Feedback is a gift", my dad always says. So I treated it as such. Being positive was my nature back then, so I just brushed them off. No biggie. But that was only the beginning.
You turned out to be a pervert. Every one of your jokes went from actual quality comedy to sexually oriented crap. A lot of it was racist and homophobic, too. You enjoyed making me feel uncomfortable by making fun of Mexicans and African-Americans in front of me (and you already knew I was part Hispanic). I asked you politely to stop -- every freaking day. I am the expressive type, so when I dislike something someone does to me, I will kindly lay out my reactive feelings for them and hope that it will help them see reason. But no. You completely disregarded them, and sometimes would indirectly make fun of them. That was fun. I'm sorry, but "just kidding" doesn't cut it.
You turned out to be a jerk, too. I had opened up to you about my true likes, dislikes and fears. I told you about something I only tell my closest friends: my dysmorphophobia. I wonder if you remember the first thing you did after I told you. Do you? No? The first thing you did was FIND A PICTURE OF A FREAKING DEFORMED PERSON TO SHOVE IN MY FACE. If I hadn't looked away before seeing too much of it, I would have likely had a breakdown right then and there. Of course, you just laughed.
Then your criticisms began to encompass EVERY LITTLE THING ABOUT ME. The way I talked. The things I said. My schoolwork. My gameplay style. My opinions. And then it got worse. You started making fun of my physical abilities (you didn't know about my disease), my clothes, my hair, my eyes…my weight…my smile.
Finally, when I said things you didn't like or disagreed with, you would hit me. Yeah, it wasn't that hard. It never bruised or cut or anything. But you would HIT me. It startled me. It scared me. But, my forgiving side continued to take pity on you by making me deny that anything was actually wrong.
I think I only realized you were actually abusing me when I went clothes shopping at the mall with my mom and sister, and caught myself thinking: 'No, don't buy that. He'll just make fun of it.' I don't know why I was surprised at myself. You'd done nothing but hurt me for so long.
I completely cut you off when you started telling me to kill myself. Every day, you would say it over and over, to the point the words lost their meaning…
I spent the last quarter of school desperately avoiding you. I was afraid of you. Of your judgment. Of the memory of you. And that is the memory highlight of my eighth grade year.
I will never forget how you treated me. Never. You have scarred me, you have hurt me, you have destroyed me. You have done everything in your power to make my life miserable, whether it was intentional or not. And you succeeded. I gave you a part of myself that I hardly ever let anyone else even SEE. I GAVE it to you. You kept it for a while, not mistreating it, but not caring for it either. Then you ran off with it, exploited it, and finally, you BROKE it. And you could NEVER figure it out. YOU NEVER UNDERSTOOD. NO MATTER HOW HARD I DRILLED IT INTO YOUR THICK F*CKING HEAD, YOU JUST KEPT ON DOING IT. I TRIED AND TRIED AND YOU JUST KEPT ON AND ON AND ON AND ON. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?! WHAT IS IT THAT I DID TO YOU THAT MADE YOU TREAT ME THAT WAY? I'm f*cking tired of pretending it never happened, because guess what? It DID. And I'm sure you don't give a crap. Cause apparently, you never did. You took joy in making me feel like shit. I did everything I could to be there for you, to help you, to be the one friend who actually appreciated you. And you threw it all away, breaking me in the process.
Why? "Why?" is the question I have asked myself so many, many times. I've never figured it out. I probably never will. I mean, yeah, you may have had a hard home life, but does that excuse your behavior? No. No, I think not.
I was looking for something in you that I had been looking for my entire life. Something to help complete me. Something I know every girl wants, deep down: male confirmation. Not romance, but the affirmation of my own quality based upon YOUR opinion of me. But you deceived me. You started off looking like you just might have been that person who could give it to me. Then you did a 180 and started beating me over the head because of the hole in my heart. The hole that I was trying to fill with you, the you that I thought was worth it. And I admit that I may have been enjoying our friendship mostly because of how you were my temporary self-fulfillment. I readily admit that. But I do know that even if that was a big part of our friendship, that an equally large part of it was my true wanting to help you. I really did. I put EVERYTHING in me into making you happy, because that's what you were doing for me. I wanted to give back. But apparently…I don't even know what happened. I don't know what it is that made you act the way you did.
I'll be honest: I don't think I've forgiven you for what you've done. I've tried to, but I really do think I hate you. I'm flawed like that. But, there's more. My dearest bully: I thank you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for making me who I am today. For messing me up, for pushing me around, for breaking me so badly, I was forced to pick up the pieces and make something better out of myself. Because if you hadn't done that, I wouldn't be the kind of person I am today. I've learned from what I didn't do how to stand up for myself. How to be strong. And I'm not there yet, but I'm working on how to feel beautiful, despite you and your kind. And I like myself, now. In a weird, indirect way, I like myself better because of what you did to me.
So…I guess, thank you. And goodbye.
--Victoria Fernandez
"Already Dead" by Cherri Bomb -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DHZjqwyZJQ
"Mean" by Taylor Swift -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYa1eI1hpDE
*WARNING: WILL PROBABLY END UP CONTAINING LANGUAGE*
To my (favorite) bully,
I remember how we met. Eighth grade. The worst year of my life. Mostly because of you.
We were in English class. You were telling a funny improv story. Everyone kept saying it was lame, and I think I was the only one in there who actually liked it. So I laughed. And maybe you noticed me. Maybe I noticed you. But afterwards we just started talking. Your humor made me laugh. You liked to make me laugh. So it was nice. (It could have stayed that way...)
We started hanging out. Just talking. Nothing really special. I remember one of the things we had in common was music. We liked the same stuff. Music means so much more to me than it does to a lot of other people, so if someone likes my music, it automatically puts a good connotation to the sound of their name. That's just how I am. So, seeing as I didn't have much else to do, I typed up a nice, neat little graph of all of my favorite music in the genres we both liked. I gave it to you the next day. Cause I do that kind of stuff for my friends all the time. It wasn't anything special. But apparently, you thought it was, cause the next day, you came back with a thank you gift, acting all awkward about it. I don't know if you were just always awkward around girls or actually liked me, but either way, it was that that started our friendship.
It was the craziest friendship I've ever been a part of. Every day, we would do something new. Every day, you'd make me laugh, I'd make you laugh, we'd have fun. It was beautiful. It was amazing. It was…well, to be honest, thrilling.
After about a month or two , we made plans to play video games after school. I was excited. I'd never really had any good guy friends at school, so I was just excited to know someone. We played Terraria. Then, I guess you began to think of me as your friend, because you started telling me about your home life. My counseling/philosophical side kicked in, and I was able to comfort you. The game became something we'd do after school almost every day, and every day, I would help you reason through your home life.
I am a naturally empathetic person, to the point I feel everybody around me's pain almost just as much as they do, if not more. Not kidding. It's very draining for me. So, hearing about your problems made me want to help. And that's what I did. It also made me think about it a lot, and in turn YOU a lot. It wasn't a crush, I can guarantee that. I was never interested in you that way. But I valued our friendship a LOT. Almost to an unhealthy point, I think. I started to have insomnia, because the overactive part of my brain -- the part that thinks about all the things I don't want to think about just because I don't want to think about them -- decided to make a full on analysis of our relationship. Kids at school thought we should date. You still acted awkward around me sometimes, and other triggers made me think that maybe you did like me. I thought that maybe behind your clownish exterior, you were really just a fragile guy trying to cover up, who if you really liked me, then you would be broken if I turned you down. I cared SO much for you and for our friendship, that I almost came to the conclusion that I would have said yes if you asked me out, just because I didn't want to hurt you. But I never had to actually make that decision, mentally or verbally.
Because that's when it started.
You started to criticize me. At first I was like okay, no biggie. "Feedback is a gift", my dad always says. So I treated it as such. Being positive was my nature back then, so I just brushed them off. No biggie. But that was only the beginning.
You turned out to be a pervert. Every one of your jokes went from actual quality comedy to sexually oriented crap. A lot of it was racist and homophobic, too. You enjoyed making me feel uncomfortable by making fun of Mexicans and African-Americans in front of me (and you already knew I was part Hispanic). I asked you politely to stop -- every freaking day. I am the expressive type, so when I dislike something someone does to me, I will kindly lay out my reactive feelings for them and hope that it will help them see reason. But no. You completely disregarded them, and sometimes would indirectly make fun of them. That was fun. I'm sorry, but "just kidding" doesn't cut it.
You turned out to be a jerk, too. I had opened up to you about my true likes, dislikes and fears. I told you about something I only tell my closest friends: my dysmorphophobia. I wonder if you remember the first thing you did after I told you. Do you? No? The first thing you did was FIND A PICTURE OF A FREAKING DEFORMED PERSON TO SHOVE IN MY FACE. If I hadn't looked away before seeing too much of it, I would have likely had a breakdown right then and there. Of course, you just laughed.
Then your criticisms began to encompass EVERY LITTLE THING ABOUT ME. The way I talked. The things I said. My schoolwork. My gameplay style. My opinions. And then it got worse. You started making fun of my physical abilities (you didn't know about my disease), my clothes, my hair, my eyes…my weight…my smile.
Finally, when I said things you didn't like or disagreed with, you would hit me. Yeah, it wasn't that hard. It never bruised or cut or anything. But you would HIT me. It startled me. It scared me. But, my forgiving side continued to take pity on you by making me deny that anything was actually wrong.
I think I only realized you were actually abusing me when I went clothes shopping at the mall with my mom and sister, and caught myself thinking: 'No, don't buy that. He'll just make fun of it.' I don't know why I was surprised at myself. You'd done nothing but hurt me for so long.
I completely cut you off when you started telling me to kill myself. Every day, you would say it over and over, to the point the words lost their meaning…
I spent the last quarter of school desperately avoiding you. I was afraid of you. Of your judgment. Of the memory of you. And that is the memory highlight of my eighth grade year.
I will never forget how you treated me. Never. You have scarred me, you have hurt me, you have destroyed me. You have done everything in your power to make my life miserable, whether it was intentional or not. And you succeeded. I gave you a part of myself that I hardly ever let anyone else even SEE. I GAVE it to you. You kept it for a while, not mistreating it, but not caring for it either. Then you ran off with it, exploited it, and finally, you BROKE it. And you could NEVER figure it out. YOU NEVER UNDERSTOOD. NO MATTER HOW HARD I DRILLED IT INTO YOUR THICK F*CKING HEAD, YOU JUST KEPT ON DOING IT. I TRIED AND TRIED AND YOU JUST KEPT ON AND ON AND ON AND ON. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?! WHAT IS IT THAT I DID TO YOU THAT MADE YOU TREAT ME THAT WAY? I'm f*cking tired of pretending it never happened, because guess what? It DID. And I'm sure you don't give a crap. Cause apparently, you never did. You took joy in making me feel like shit. I did everything I could to be there for you, to help you, to be the one friend who actually appreciated you. And you threw it all away, breaking me in the process.
Why? "Why?" is the question I have asked myself so many, many times. I've never figured it out. I probably never will. I mean, yeah, you may have had a hard home life, but does that excuse your behavior? No. No, I think not.
I was looking for something in you that I had been looking for my entire life. Something to help complete me. Something I know every girl wants, deep down: male confirmation. Not romance, but the affirmation of my own quality based upon YOUR opinion of me. But you deceived me. You started off looking like you just might have been that person who could give it to me. Then you did a 180 and started beating me over the head because of the hole in my heart. The hole that I was trying to fill with you, the you that I thought was worth it. And I admit that I may have been enjoying our friendship mostly because of how you were my temporary self-fulfillment. I readily admit that. But I do know that even if that was a big part of our friendship, that an equally large part of it was my true wanting to help you. I really did. I put EVERYTHING in me into making you happy, because that's what you were doing for me. I wanted to give back. But apparently…I don't even know what happened. I don't know what it is that made you act the way you did.
I'll be honest: I don't think I've forgiven you for what you've done. I've tried to, but I really do think I hate you. I'm flawed like that. But, there's more. My dearest bully: I thank you. Thank you for everything. Thank you for making me who I am today. For messing me up, for pushing me around, for breaking me so badly, I was forced to pick up the pieces and make something better out of myself. Because if you hadn't done that, I wouldn't be the kind of person I am today. I've learned from what I didn't do how to stand up for myself. How to be strong. And I'm not there yet, but I'm working on how to feel beautiful, despite you and your kind. And I like myself, now. In a weird, indirect way, I like myself better because of what you did to me.
So…I guess, thank you. And goodbye.
--Victoria Fernandez
Notes
...*wipes away a few stray tears*...
Mhm yep I bet
1/19/16