A,
It's ages ago now, but I haven't forgotten you.
We met the day we both started school. Excited and nervous for who our new classmates were going to be.
For you, I think it must have been easier. You came from the mountainside afterall, where 97% of the kids lived. You'd grown up in the same streets as them. Probably played with them weekly.
For me, I came from the lake. There was no one else in our class from my street. I guess, that alone made me an easy target.
You bullied me.
You pushed, bit, kicked, punched, spat and put itchy powder down my clothes.
You made sure I had no friends for long stretches of time during primary school. You made sure I was always picked last, and made sure that I was always afraid of recess and of leaving at the end of the day. And you cleverly made it so that no one noticed. Not enough anyway, to be corncerned.
You made my stomach and head hurt. You made learning difficult for me, despite the fact that I loved to learn.
You weren't alone, but this isn't about the others. This is about you and me.
I know you had it hard. You had parents who severely neglected you, and brothers who weren't very nice to you. You didn't have any rolemodels, and you had such an excess amount of nervous energy. You were hurting too, you were wounded. You needed to be loved. Why no one called the children's services to help you, I do not understand. You would have had a better life, and in return... So would I have. And I am sorry that none of the adults in our lives didn't do anything about the hurt you were so obviously going through.
You took all the energy from the teachers, you were disruptive and never did as you were told. You were the class joker. And you loved the attention it got you, because at home you got nothing.
After primary school the entire class had to change school, as the rural school we went to only had kids up to 11-12 years of age. In our new school we were seperated into seperate classes. And I don't really know how those 3 years went for you. But they were better without you for me. I was still scared though. And once those 3 years were over, again we changed schools. Or rather, I'm not sure if you did continue your education. I did.
I met you on the busstop once, it was uncomfortable. And I think you noticed. I think you felt ashamed. Because the next time you saw me, on the bus way back from town, you sat down next to me.. And you apologized.
You sincerely apologized. No one forced you, no one told you it was something you should do. You could have ignored me and we both would have gone different ways. But you didn't.
I accepted it. Not fully, but to give you relief. I was old enough at this stage to know the stories of your childhood troubles. I knew you had suffered too. It wasn't okay what you had done to me, but I understood.
Years passed again, and I never saw you again. And I never will.
The newspaper told about a young man who had escaped from prison, and the police was hoping people would tell them were you were. But no one did. It took them two months to find you, but by then it was too late. You had died.
I'm not sure if you overdosed, but they found you close to where we both grew up, by the side of the road, hidden in the snow.
Our classmates mourned you. I did not.
I am sorry your life was so harsh, that you never had a good oportunity to enjoy the good sides of life. I really am.
Your wounds have scarred. And the scars are visible, I feel them in my everyday. The seed of insecurity you put in me, grew and grew like wildfire. I don't know how to end this. I think about you today, and I don't quite know why.
But I think I am ready to fully forgive you.
It's ages ago now, but I haven't forgotten you.
We met the day we both started school. Excited and nervous for who our new classmates were going to be.
For you, I think it must have been easier. You came from the mountainside afterall, where 97% of the kids lived. You'd grown up in the same streets as them. Probably played with them weekly.
For me, I came from the lake. There was no one else in our class from my street. I guess, that alone made me an easy target.
You bullied me.
You pushed, bit, kicked, punched, spat and put itchy powder down my clothes.
You made sure I had no friends for long stretches of time during primary school. You made sure I was always picked last, and made sure that I was always afraid of recess and of leaving at the end of the day. And you cleverly made it so that no one noticed. Not enough anyway, to be corncerned.
You made my stomach and head hurt. You made learning difficult for me, despite the fact that I loved to learn.
You weren't alone, but this isn't about the others. This is about you and me.
I know you had it hard. You had parents who severely neglected you, and brothers who weren't very nice to you. You didn't have any rolemodels, and you had such an excess amount of nervous energy. You were hurting too, you were wounded. You needed to be loved. Why no one called the children's services to help you, I do not understand. You would have had a better life, and in return... So would I have. And I am sorry that none of the adults in our lives didn't do anything about the hurt you were so obviously going through.
You took all the energy from the teachers, you were disruptive and never did as you were told. You were the class joker. And you loved the attention it got you, because at home you got nothing.
After primary school the entire class had to change school, as the rural school we went to only had kids up to 11-12 years of age. In our new school we were seperated into seperate classes. And I don't really know how those 3 years went for you. But they were better without you for me. I was still scared though. And once those 3 years were over, again we changed schools. Or rather, I'm not sure if you did continue your education. I did.
I met you on the busstop once, it was uncomfortable. And I think you noticed. I think you felt ashamed. Because the next time you saw me, on the bus way back from town, you sat down next to me.. And you apologized.
You sincerely apologized. No one forced you, no one told you it was something you should do. You could have ignored me and we both would have gone different ways. But you didn't.
I accepted it. Not fully, but to give you relief. I was old enough at this stage to know the stories of your childhood troubles. I knew you had suffered too. It wasn't okay what you had done to me, but I understood.
Years passed again, and I never saw you again. And I never will.
The newspaper told about a young man who had escaped from prison, and the police was hoping people would tell them were you were. But no one did. It took them two months to find you, but by then it was too late. You had died.
I'm not sure if you overdosed, but they found you close to where we both grew up, by the side of the road, hidden in the snow.
Our classmates mourned you. I did not.
I am sorry your life was so harsh, that you never had a good oportunity to enjoy the good sides of life. I really am.
Your wounds have scarred. And the scars are visible, I feel them in my everyday. The seed of insecurity you put in me, grew and grew like wildfire. I don't know how to end this. I think about you today, and I don't quite know why.
But I think I am ready to fully forgive you.