Listen, You Need To Stop Sacrificing Your Happiness For Other People
“Just punch him, Tom.”
My Dad was telling me to punch a kid who was bullying me.
“You have my permission to punch him.”
I was 7 years old when he told me to do that.
That rocked my world view.
“What if I get in trouble?” I asked.
“I don’t care,” he quipped back.
The silence in the room after that was remarkable. I’ll never forget it.
I felt like I had a license to kill after our conversation, but I was still reluctant to punch anyone.
Let me back up.
From kindergarten to 6th grade, I was bullied. I was viciously attacked every day by a group of boys doubling as demons spawned from the depths of hell.
And my parents paid a lot of money for this education even though they couldn’t pay for much else at the time.
It was a waste of money.
I should’ve just gone to a public school.
I remember the first time I punched one of the jerk-offs who was bullying me. He turned his back after laying into me and I hammer fisted him right at the top of his fucking spine.
