Bullied But Not Buried

I was bullied as a child. I grew up in the tiny town of Carthage, Illinois, and went to a small school where everyone knew your business. I was the fat, shy kid with a mole on my face, so it was pretty much a given I’d be bullied. I had “chocolate” (or, as I became older, “shit”) on my face, I was fat as a boat.

Other than a few friends, I pretty much kept to myself and tried hard not to be noticed. The fact that I was also being bullied at home, by an alcoholic, abusive, policeman father, didn’t help matters. (Neither did my narcissistic mother, but that’s a story for another day.)

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Introspection, Exposition is a publication for writers who want to use their own voices to tell their unique stories, and for readers looking for contemplative and unconventional work. We feature brave personal essays, short fiction, humor, and more.

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Joe DeRouen

Joe DeRouen

Joe is a freelance writer and novelist.

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