Dear Bully, Screw You, Really

Dear Bully, Screw You, Really

Walking down the corridor, I could feel my heart race.

You’d stand outside the classroom, sharpening your claw, ready to pounce on me.

I’d walk slowly, keeping myself from falling down,

trying to avoid those preying eyes.

Each step, a constant reminder that

I am not enough.

I will never

be enough.

“Hey, why do you do walk so strangely, do you have an amputated leg or what?”

Looking you in disbelief, I’d always wonder why you detest me so much.

What did I do to deserve that hatred?

But Daniel and Roma would calm me down.

They always told me that I am perfect.

“It’s windy outside, might want to hold on to something, amoeba!”

I would clench my fist and close my eyes.

Daniel and Roma would tell me I’m perfect.

“Heard you still didn’t get your period, get yourself checked, maybe you’re a man.”

Inhale. Exhale.

Daniel and Roma would tell me I’m perfect.

“Yo blackey, is everyone in your family this dark?”

You would roar out in laughter with your friends as

my eyes would well up and I gasp for air.

Damn, you and your friends.

You know, I couldn’t ignore this laughter. It still rings in my ear.

Can you imagine a child having sleepless nights because of someone’s laughter?

How could you, dear bully?

Daniel and Roma weren’t there anymore to tell me I’m perfect.

They moved cities. Lucky asses!

So I, in all my capability, had to repeat to myself.

“I. Am. Perfect.”

You remember how you pushed me in the morning assembly on the stage?

The thorny laughter emerged from the crowd as the earth opened itself to swallow me

The 12 year me couldn’t take this laughter. She just couldn’t. She has had enough.

Every roll call in the morning now went with me stuttering “P-p-p-p-present, ma’am”.

I looked around to see the benches floating in the air.

“I am glad you finished your sentence before the recess”, you shouted.

I shut my eyes and could still hear the background score of those giggles and laughter.

Dear bully, screw you, really.

You’re the reason I still seek for validations as I breathe.

Every, “Am I looking fine?”

Every “Did I make a fool of myself?”

Every “Shit, I shouldn’t have opened my mouth”

Is a consequence of your stabbing.

These wounds may not be visible on my skin, but they cut deep.

Last week you commented on my instagram picture saying, “God damn, you’ve turned hot. Wanna grab a drink?”

Guess what, dear bully?

I am not glad that I’ve grown hot according to your beauty standards.

I remember every single instance clear as a day, so let’s not pretend we are besties, okay?

But, let’s meet over drinks that I will make sure to throw on you.

The 12 year old me can’t wait to tell you that “I-I-I-I-I am perfect”.