sugarb
thief of silent dreams
- Jun 14, 2024
- 798
Long, rambly post.
I had a very isolated childhood. It generally wasn't lonely- I was more or less happy in my own little world, but school sucked oftentimes. I was in and out of the SPED room due to outbursts/feeling overwhelmed or stressed and didn't have a single friend at school until third grade, when I finally made one- an immigrant from South America named Juan who didn't speak much English.
That was around the time Pryce (fake name; a popular shitheel my age/size) started bullying me.
I don't remember exactly how it started, but it went on for several months. It mostly consisted of cruel teasing (namecalling, etc) with the occasional push or shove, but he also took great pains to exclude me from others even more than usual. One way of doing this was tag.
It was a popular game on the playground, but I disliked it (thought it was boring, wasn't very good at it). Prior to Pryce I just wouldn't participate much, but once he started targeting me I somehow always ended being "it" whether I was playing or not.
That meant everyone would literally, physically run away from me all recess long (apart from Juan). That might've been bearable were it not for the constant verbal bullying / exclusion and the fact that Juan wasn't in any of my classes.
There was also a trio of girls who for reasons beyond my understanding absolutely hated me and went out of their way to physically assault me at every opportunity. That didn't affect me as much, but getting in the shins constantly still sucked.
I did what I'd been taught my whole life and told the recess guard (who didn't care), my teachers (they either did nothing or were ineffective) and my parents (they told the principal a few dozen times, and she did nothing). Apparently the whole "we care about bullying" shtick was either outright bullshit or only applied to kids who weren't autistic outcasts.
The same happened when I tried to ask for help with the girls who kept attacking me- radio silence. That one seems especially egregious to me- I had physical evidence of being punched randomly in the form of bruises. I assume there was some kind of bias at work there, but who knows.
Since nobody gave a damn, I tried to follow other sayings I'd been taught- "just walk away", "don't respond", "turn the other cheek", "they just want a reaction", "they're just losers trying to feel better about themselves", etc.
That advice is so hilariously out of tune with reality I wonder if it was intentionally designed to maximize suffering. Do the people writing these little sayings honestly think that bullies typically target small, weak, ugly, and/or mentally ill people because they're jealous or insecure? I'm pretty sure it's something to do with asserting dominance, securing social position, and occasionally sheer pleasure.
I might've just kept turning the other cheek until my head screwed clean off, but later that year, two things happened:
First- my dad showed me how to punch. It was sort of by chance, but it laid some very important groundwork.
Second- I watched a shitty Godzilla movie we had on DVD, "All Monsters Attack!". Kaiju aside, in it a kid ends up fighting his bullies and winning. Dumb as it was, it planted the idea that I didn't have to let them hurt me in my head.
A while later, Pryce started fucking with me during recess again. I forget what he said at first, but at one point he called me a chicken, and for whatever reason that set me off and I immediately charged him. He ran off cackling and I went after him a lot faster than usual, hot on his heels. Tard berserker rage, I guess.
After chasing him for a bit, I drove him up the staircase of a bit of playground equipment and tricked him into going down the slide as I went down the staircase. Surprise, bitch.
I don't remember what (if any) damage I inflicted, but I was polite enough to throw his glasses off his stupid mug before introducing it my fists once he slid down.
I was hauled off to the office and given three days of in-school-suspension afterwards. My parents weren't particularly angry, thankfully.
Immediately after the incident, I felt better. I didn't have any issues with bullying that were anywhere near as severe through the rest of my school years.
But last year, thinking about it randomly, I actually started feeling guilty. "I hurt someone and got suspended, so I must've done something wrong. Maybe I misremembered how bad it was." Eventually I asked my parents (I came home crying almost every day) and Juan (he bullied everyone. And apparently he only got suspended for a day since I "instigated".).
I'd internalized the way people justified and downplayed my treatment, even seven years after the fact.
I had a class with him this year, and saw him in a drive through one time. We never spoke a word. I have no idea if he even remembered or recognized me.
I realized recently-
I accomplished nothing.
The only consequence he got for being a sadistic asshole all year was a few bruises (at most) that were gone in under a week. And he got to go back to being a happy, popular neurotypical afterwards.
If you're a genuine outsider for whatever reason- awkward, ugly, disabled, autistic, some other mental illness, etc- 99 times out of a 100, you can't win. Even if you defend yourself, even if you never get in trouble or go to a mental hospital, even if you get straight A's and do everything you're supposed to, even if you outperform them in some way or another, even if you have friends or partners or a loving family- you are still a stray circling the campfire, shooed away when you wander too close. I will never experience the inherent sense of belonging that asshole was given. He will never suffer from the diseases wracking my brain. My foundations were cracked from the start.
I did make a few more friends over the years (though I never hung out with any outside school other than Juan) but as of two days ago I'm back to square one.
Me and Juan hung out and played Halo for eight hours (it was lots of fun but i still have a headache lmao) but now he's gone and shipped off to Basic. I probably won't see him more than once a year from now on.
The fight was pointless. Meaningless. I inflicted temporary pain on one person out of many who irreversibly damaged me and all it accomplished was forcing my bullies to hide their disdain for me a bit more effectively. I was still just as excluded as always. The victory was completely hollow.
In the years since I've tried my best in school and done all I can to be presentable and normal, but all I have to show for it is a slightly less costly entrance into higher education.
I'll take my time and make sure I can buy the gun I use to get myself off this rock without any trouble. Make my preparations. Ensure it's foolproof. I might even enjoy myself a bit along the way, spend time with what few people I have. But I know there no chance in hell I'll be here past 30.
I had a very isolated childhood. It generally wasn't lonely- I was more or less happy in my own little world, but school sucked oftentimes. I was in and out of the SPED room due to outbursts/feeling overwhelmed or stressed and didn't have a single friend at school until third grade, when I finally made one- an immigrant from South America named Juan who didn't speak much English.
That was around the time Pryce (fake name; a popular shitheel my age/size) started bullying me.
I don't remember exactly how it started, but it went on for several months. It mostly consisted of cruel teasing (namecalling, etc) with the occasional push or shove, but he also took great pains to exclude me from others even more than usual. One way of doing this was tag.
It was a popular game on the playground, but I disliked it (thought it was boring, wasn't very good at it). Prior to Pryce I just wouldn't participate much, but once he started targeting me I somehow always ended being "it" whether I was playing or not.
That meant everyone would literally, physically run away from me all recess long (apart from Juan). That might've been bearable were it not for the constant verbal bullying / exclusion and the fact that Juan wasn't in any of my classes.
There was also a trio of girls who for reasons beyond my understanding absolutely hated me and went out of their way to physically assault me at every opportunity. That didn't affect me as much, but getting in the shins constantly still sucked.
I did what I'd been taught my whole life and told the recess guard (who didn't care), my teachers (they either did nothing or were ineffective) and my parents (they told the principal a few dozen times, and she did nothing). Apparently the whole "we care about bullying" shtick was either outright bullshit or only applied to kids who weren't autistic outcasts.
The same happened when I tried to ask for help with the girls who kept attacking me- radio silence. That one seems especially egregious to me- I had physical evidence of being punched randomly in the form of bruises. I assume there was some kind of bias at work there, but who knows.
Since nobody gave a damn, I tried to follow other sayings I'd been taught- "just walk away", "don't respond", "turn the other cheek", "they just want a reaction", "they're just losers trying to feel better about themselves", etc.
That advice is so hilariously out of tune with reality I wonder if it was intentionally designed to maximize suffering. Do the people writing these little sayings honestly think that bullies typically target small, weak, ugly, and/or mentally ill people because they're jealous or insecure? I'm pretty sure it's something to do with asserting dominance, securing social position, and occasionally sheer pleasure.
I might've just kept turning the other cheek until my head screwed clean off, but later that year, two things happened:
First- my dad showed me how to punch. It was sort of by chance, but it laid some very important groundwork.
Second- I watched a shitty Godzilla movie we had on DVD, "All Monsters Attack!". Kaiju aside, in it a kid ends up fighting his bullies and winning. Dumb as it was, it planted the idea that I didn't have to let them hurt me in my head.
A while later, Pryce started fucking with me during recess again. I forget what he said at first, but at one point he called me a chicken, and for whatever reason that set me off and I immediately charged him. He ran off cackling and I went after him a lot faster than usual, hot on his heels. Tard berserker rage, I guess.
After chasing him for a bit, I drove him up the staircase of a bit of playground equipment and tricked him into going down the slide as I went down the staircase. Surprise, bitch.
I don't remember what (if any) damage I inflicted, but I was polite enough to throw his glasses off his stupid mug before introducing it my fists once he slid down.
I was hauled off to the office and given three days of in-school-suspension afterwards. My parents weren't particularly angry, thankfully.
Immediately after the incident, I felt better. I didn't have any issues with bullying that were anywhere near as severe through the rest of my school years.
But last year, thinking about it randomly, I actually started feeling guilty. "I hurt someone and got suspended, so I must've done something wrong. Maybe I misremembered how bad it was." Eventually I asked my parents (I came home crying almost every day) and Juan (he bullied everyone. And apparently he only got suspended for a day since I "instigated".).
I'd internalized the way people justified and downplayed my treatment, even seven years after the fact.
I had a class with him this year, and saw him in a drive through one time. We never spoke a word. I have no idea if he even remembered or recognized me.
I realized recently-
I accomplished nothing.
The only consequence he got for being a sadistic asshole all year was a few bruises (at most) that were gone in under a week. And he got to go back to being a happy, popular neurotypical afterwards.
If you're a genuine outsider for whatever reason- awkward, ugly, disabled, autistic, some other mental illness, etc- 99 times out of a 100, you can't win. Even if you defend yourself, even if you never get in trouble or go to a mental hospital, even if you get straight A's and do everything you're supposed to, even if you outperform them in some way or another, even if you have friends or partners or a loving family- you are still a stray circling the campfire, shooed away when you wander too close. I will never experience the inherent sense of belonging that asshole was given. He will never suffer from the diseases wracking my brain. My foundations were cracked from the start.
I did make a few more friends over the years (though I never hung out with any outside school other than Juan) but as of two days ago I'm back to square one.
Me and Juan hung out and played Halo for eight hours (it was lots of fun but i still have a headache lmao) but now he's gone and shipped off to Basic. I probably won't see him more than once a year from now on.
The fight was pointless. Meaningless. I inflicted temporary pain on one person out of many who irreversibly damaged me and all it accomplished was forcing my bullies to hide their disdain for me a bit more effectively. I was still just as excluded as always. The victory was completely hollow.
In the years since I've tried my best in school and done all I can to be presentable and normal, but all I have to show for it is a slightly less costly entrance into higher education.
I'll take my time and make sure I can buy the gun I use to get myself off this rock without any trouble. Make my preparations. Ensure it's foolproof. I might even enjoy myself a bit along the way, spend time with what few people I have. But I know there no chance in hell I'll be here past 30.
