HS Was Years Ago, Yet I Still Vividly Remember How You Bullied And Victimized Me

Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe not to you, but to me it did. It mattered because the words stuck. It has been years, and they’re still there. I can still hear your voice in my head. I can hear it echo every time I look at the toilet, a razor blade, or a bridge. Do you not remember that day? The day you found out that my uncle had killed himself? Do you remember what you said? You said, “Too bad it wasn’t you.”

I remember that you saw the lines of scabs on my wrist. All of them were mostly hidden by bracelets and long-sleeved shirts. You smiled, looked at me, and shook your head. My friends forced me to eat that day at lunch. I excused myself to the school restroom minutes after eating. I was on my knees, and my hands were wrapped around the toilet bowl as the food in my stomach was purged into the disgusting toilet. I remember you coming up from the other stall and saying, “Like that will help!”

Do you remember when I went to the bathroom to wash my face and you followed me in there? I can still feel your hand smack across my face. I can still feel the incredible force you used to throw me against the wall, only to tell me how worthless I was. The night you smacked me was the night you found out that I tried to kill myself. You heard I jumped off a bridge. You stopped from there.

image: Martin Cooper Ipswich