My Letter To My Bully
Thank You for making me strong
Dear Bully,
Hello! Do you remember me? Well maybe you don’t remember me but I remember you. To be honest, I didn’t think I would ever write you a letter. As far as I was concerned, the amount of suffering I went through during my school years was enough to make me bitter.
All I want to ask you is this: are you aware that you used to be a bully? Do you realize how hurtful your actions were towards myself and others? I am referring to when you constantly used to leave me out and speak about me behind my back or when I was sitting right in front of you! I still remember that feeling of being excluded and ignored. The culture I grew up in was “You’re too young to be depressed. What do you have to be depressed about?”
Wrong face. Wrong size. Wrong skin color. Wrong personality.
Those were my thoughts I blame myself every day and every second. No matter how hard I tried to understand it all, it felt like the world was telling me that I didn’t belong, and I never would. I remember the times you refused to sit next to me, “that thing” in the class.
I remember the laughter, my cheeks burning as I walked from class to class, wishing that the earth would just swallow me up.
Dear bullies, I remember that laughter
I remember all of the emotional pain you caused. You taunted and tormented me. Your words cut me like a knife. You rallied others against me. You went out of your way to embarrass me, to strip me of all my confidence and self-worth. You almost won.
But almost?
When I lost humans around me I made books my friend they make me cry laugh and stayed loyal to me. I start to smile not because my friend compliment me but I remember the inside joke from a book. The world around didn’t exist when I focus on the words. Words are brilliant, aren’t they? The ones that you used left me like a mess and the one that they used portrayed me like my best. I learned how to face myself without fear, but rather with a growing sense of maturity that helped me to look beyond my pain and start to become aware of yours. You were laced with anger from within.
You have taught me how to connect fully with others from all walks of life; I look around me, and I see beyond the superficial, the carefully put up walls, and I see something else:
I see that behind every face, behind every pair of eyes filled with experiences, there is a story to be told, if we just took more time to stop and listen.
I hope you’ve grown up and changed your ways. I hope you’ve found yourself and know yourself in the way that I have. I hope you no longer feel the need to put others down to feel good about yourself.
And even though some of your stories are now forever linked with mine, they’re now the gritty, rough drafts that add to the chapters rather than take away from it.
The gift of learning to genuinely love and accept the child that I was and the woman I am becoming.
And for that, I only have a few words for you:
Thank you for making me strong.
Regards,
Old Friend
