What makes us the way we are today

Late at night I was lying awake thinking about my broken calculator and that I need to get a new one. Then I remembered that I don’t work well with calculators, they always end up getting damaged. It’s never my fault as I don’t personally or directly damage them.

I don’t know how much exactly I’ve told you about my bullying-history. I’ve explained as to why I am sensitive to smokers and about my weight.
Anyway, my chain of thought moved on to remembering what happened to my old calculators in seventh or eighth grade.

My first one was stolen, never to be seen again. The one I bought after that also vanished, but showed up a little later. I knew it was mine because I  had marked it. Somebody had drawn all over it and managed to remove the front housing, making the buttons more unstable.

I kept on using it. My calculator was not the only thing to vanish now and again, so I decided there was no point in replacing it with a  brand new one.

But this was not the end of my late-night thought chain.

Remembering the things they did and said to me made me imagine myself back in those situations.

What if I – the way I am today – were to be treated again the way I used to be?

It’s been almost four years now since I graduated from the school in Switzerland. I was bullied the most at about thirteen and fourteen.

They would steal or demolish my things, tell me to “get into a box and go back to England”, to “eat something for once”. They said I was ugly, disgusting. They spread rumors about my and everybody believed them. They would throw a wet sponge at my face, laughed at anything I did or said, on particular idiot even got violent once or maybe twice.

Luckily those days are over. Today I am stronger and more self-confident, have more belief in my abilities. People respect me for who I am and I have less problems talking to people I “like”.

I stand up to those who gossip about others and I finally feel more comfortable speaking my mind.

Most importantly I don’t get laughed at for it.

It’s impossible to know exactly how I would react to someone calling me an anorexic, making me feel in any way undignified or ugly.

But I think, if I were in that same situation again I would do one of two things:I’d laugh and say it’s understandable that someone would feel the urge to push others down to make themselves feel better. He’s calling me anorexic because with that tummy hiding beneath that oversized T-shirt he will never be able to compete with my slim figure. Also, I get why he wants to make me feel small and unimportant because he’s already shorter than me and at least I have another growth spurt ahead of me.

And making me feel stupid makes him forget that he has a maximum of twenty sentences in his vocabulary that he uses on a daily basis and hence has to repeat himself a lot. It might also help him forget the fact that in the future he will be stuck in the same town with some boring job that fits his low IQ (low because of smoking too much pott), while I will be out and about being my brilliant self.

The second thing I could do is smile and ignore all of them, knowing that wishing for somebody else to fail makes me immature and a bad person. I would sit there hoping that one day they would wake up from their small-minded reality and get a life that somehow contributes to society.

At the same time I would hope for myself that they wouldn’t have too many kids later on. I would feel sorry for them.

I admit that having gone through all of that idiocy (And I’m well aware that there are bullying-methods far worse) also fueled a lot of good things.

It took me a while to regain my self-esteem, but I’ve learned to recognize my efforts and abilities more than what makes me weak. Because of that group of apes I’ve decided for myself to become greater than any of them, to be useful remarkable and independent.

My past also fuels my current opinion against the mean rumors in my class that cause a situation close to bullying.

Maybe I would be a completely different person had I not been pushed about for three years.

So, thank you. And fuck you.


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