I, Bully, Victim and Bystander: Story Two (Warning for language)
Posted April 28th, 2012 by Mistborn
in the guild of Fairy Tail, winning The Magic Games and saving the world again
For whom this may concern (you know who you are):
I know who you are. You’re the girl who called me a bitch. You’re the junior who made fun of a thirteen year old to the point of tears and quitting her team. You’re the girl who thinks she knows it all and is furious that I’m smarter than you, so you spread lies behind my back.
I am not a coward for putting this into writing. You are the cowards for climbing up by using others as footholds on the mountain of self-esteem. You may think you’re all cool, but you’re not.
To Natalie and Krysta:
The juniors who make a seventh grader have a meltdown on the softball field. Why? Because I’m three years younger and a better first baseman? Yeah, you thought you could get away with it. Considering our coaches knew crap about softball, you had free reign. We had a few sour grapes among us this season, and they were you.
If any coach had heard the way you speak to me, the way you ignore me, the way you roll your eyes at me and the things you say, you wouldn’t have touched the clay fields ever again. In part, I know it’s not your fault. Your parents excuse your behavior, laughing about it, because girls will be girls. I’m sorry that you have such poor role models. No one ever held you accountable for your behavior. Tormenting a seventh grader until she cries before practice and breaks down in the middle of a game is NOT right. It is NOT excusable because your teenaged girls.
I doubt Coach Sheila and Coach James will ever follow up on this case. They promised they would talk to you and your parents. Yet they left the game in quite a hasty manner. No apologies were ever issued. Unfortunately, no one will ever hold you responsible. That’s the sad part. Some are above the rules. Why is it that the victim is punished for standing up to her torturers but the interrogators get off scotch free? I lost one of my favorite sports. You get to keep playing. And win.
But you didn’t win against me. I won’t let you cheat on the game of life. Even if others will search through the deck and hand you a get out of jail free card every time you have a run in with trouble. I just want you to know that. I did not lose this game. I am not a coward for quitting the team. You are, for not being able to handle that I’m a better player than you.
Someday, no one will bail you out. Someday, no one can just walk away and say it didn’t happen. Someday, you will have reality smack you right side up.
One day, I hope you learn that bullying is wrong.
You fit the persona perfectly of a female bully: the drama/mean/beauty queen. You think you’re all that. But you’re not.
No one likes you. Everyone knows your name. Jamie remembers you from her second grade class, where you spit on her. Kylie remembers how you used to throw temper tantrums when you were losing a tennis match. Becka remembers you as the girl who laughed at her and whispered gossips under you’re foul smelling breath. Kiera remembers you as the girl who destroyed all prospects of actually finding a true friend; not one that calls her names and tries to change who you are.
I remember you as the girl who hates me. I don’t know why. Is it because I tell you off when you’re teasing Maria or Kiera? Both are scared out of their minds to side with me and admit that you actually are being mean.
If someone mentions your name, everybody says, “Oh, her.” You are hated and disliked. You think popularity is based on fear and respect.
You and your friends are the only people in seventh grade that strongly dislike me. I don’t care. Hit me with the best you got, baby I don’t care. I bet ‘Loser like Me’ made your skin crawl. Everyone was thinking of you, Marley. Everyone. I know I sure was.
Years from now, your beauty will be fleeting. Anyone with sense keeps their distance. You will be nothing.
I’m going to make this brief. Suck it up. Don’t tell your friends I’m ugly and fat because our teacher likes me better than you. Don’t say I’m a spoiled brat because I happen to read like the wind and write like Mark Twain.
I’m sorry that there are plenty of people who are smarter than both of us in the world. Shut up about it. Stop blaming me and gossiping because I am intelligent. I don’t bash Eddy because he’s a math genius. I don’t call Tommy gay because he gets better grades. So why should you do this to me?
How do I know that I have the better brains between the two of us? Because I know bullying is wrong. I know my moral code better tenfold than you do yours. I know the difference between right and wrong. And sadly, you failed the test in that area.
To Reilly, Kasey and the rest of the school who bully Maria:
I don’t even get why you’d make fun of Maria. Does it give you confidence when you put that note into the school loser’s locker, Kasey? Does it make you smile when she bursts into tears because you told her to go kill herself, Reilly?
Why in the world do you get pleasure from tormenting this girl? All Maria wants is attention. She craves it. Most likely, her parents give her none. She could possibly be abused. Does berating Maria make you feel like this won’t ever happen to you?
I hope you know that Maria will most likely follow up on your advice, Reilly, and eventually take her own life. She has NO friends. Nobody to watch out for her. No shoulder to cry on. You know how she’s asked out half the guys in seventh grade? All she wants is someone to LIKE her. You don’t have to be that person. You just not have to treat her like garbage.
I’ll give you a glimpse into what life is like for her:
Imagine you wake up one morning. You don’t want to go to school, but it is better than home, when your father gets drunk. So, you don’t complain, and go to school. On the courtyard, you approach a group of normally nice girls. One of them says, “Go away. No one likes you.”
In first period, you walk in. You run up to you’re on again, off again friend. You know she doesn’t like you and is just trying to be nice, but you need a friend. You follow her around the room. She nods and says, uh-huh to everything, but eventually just ignores you, trying to be as nice as possible.
You sit down. You yell out the answer to a question, and relish that everyone is staring at you. The teacher rolls her eyes. “How many times do I have to say this? Shut up!” You remember how the teacher embarrassed you by having you perform a solo at a concert just so you wouldn’t yell out. You absolutely hate her.
In third period, some girls gang up on you and call you a bitch and a slut. They say you lost your virginity at age eight. That’s not true, but at least they’re talking to you.
It’s Monday, so it means you can sit wherever. The group of girls tries to hide from you in the crowd. You overhear them arguing who should tell you that that spot’s saved for so and so. You go up to them and say hi. All of them ignore you, except when one breaks the silence: “Look, we don’t have enough room for all of us to sit together, and so you need to find some other people to sit with.”
You try to sit with them anyway, and you manage to nab a spot next to them. All of them stare at you like you’re an alien and don’t say a word to you.
Chances are you don’t think anything of this situation. That’s not me, you think.
You have rotten character. You should go to hell if you tell a girl to kill herself. Why? Just ask. Why do you think that? Are you jealous? Why?
You will hate me. So? I am the first person holding you responsible. Shame on the parents for making a peer or a younger child for making me the responsible adult! You are doing nothing to stop this. Therefore, I’m risking my reputation more than I’ve ever done before to make sure your ‘perfect little angels’ shut their mouths if they don’t have anything nice to say! I will not stand for harassment because we’re different.
You know who I am,
See more stories by Saskia