I was bullied. It’s not something I’m really
proud to admit, but that just happened. And I am guessing it has happened to
more people than I can imagine. Moreover, the funny thing is, the bullies
actually pretend like nothing happened, when they grow up and they see you
somewhere, like “Hey how are you doing?” Better than what you did to me, you
jerk. Yes, a lot of piled up anger right there and let me face it, I never did
anything. I never stood up or said anything or complained. I took it all in,
like most do. And I think they actually feasted on that, on that quality of
mine, to not say anything or stand up OR complain. I am glad I didn’t do
anything, sometimes. Because imagine if I did something and they swarmed back
to me. Like, who wants that? Not me. Not anyone. Never. Most people snap out of
it, in two ways: They kill themselves or they actually move on. I did none. I
didn’t attempt to kill myself (and I highly discourage that as long as I am not
suicidal myself) neither did I snap out of it. I mean, I am writing a freaking
blog piece about it. It’s like a bad hangover.
So,
back to where I was. Yes, I was bullied, incessantly. About the fact that I was
very poor in maths, lacked genuine abilities and interest in sports in general
(PT was a mess), may also have been a joke about the way I looked, or how
sparingly I talked, or my logics (which are now fun posts on Facebook, thank
you very much). There were jokes being
made at my expense. 5th grade was a horror movie for me. Things may
have started getting better when I entered 6th grade, I didn’t
notice much. I never told mom anything because I didn’t want her to think that
her kid was in some kind of a psycho-thriller movie. I wasn’t, it wasn’t that
bad. Or maybe it was. I don’t know, I was too tolerant about everything. Be it
framing for not helping a friend or for being a closeted lesbian. A, I did help
the friend. I was framed. B, I wasn’t a closeted lesbian and neither is it a
thing to be made fun of but none of us knew that. In an all-girls convent,
things get nasty very easily, because, let’s face it, we girls have a way of
being nasty as hell. So yeah, everything noted above combined, I didn’t have
many friends. Oh well, I knew a lot of people but I also know now that not all
of them were friends. 9 years of bearing everything the school had to offer,
you’d think I would have snapped out of it. But no, I’m stuck. See, the thing
about being bullied is, nobody ever gets out of it. Yeah sure, they move on and
everything, but forgetting is hard. Especially when no one stood up for you or
when you never had that one person who was with you all the way. And the only
words of console I repeated to myself was that maybe somebody has it worse and
that I shouldn’t whine at all because I was in a better place. I was wrong. Nobody
has it worse. They have it different.
Reading
all of this together would obviously make you think “awh shucks. This girl had
it bad” (or maybe I shouldn’t really get my hopes high on that thought) but I
had my fair share of good times too. Being bullied was probably one of the life
changing things that had happened to me because I learnt a lot from it. I
wouldn’t say that it made me the person I am today (I’m yet to become a person
I’m supposed to become one day) but it has a big part to play, for the future
and also what I am right now.
