Milk, it does a body good! III


Sitting in my Math class, still over-joyed by my victory over the bastard boy, I started to look back the actions that I took, and those that I didn’t.

I remember saying to myself, that I didn’t really hate the bastard boy as much as I used to. Even though I have pictured the scenarios of me attacking him, they were more of self-defending tactics. Despite how much I thought I was strong and confident, when I saw him, I was scared. Some where inside of my head, alerted me of this individual. Maybe because of what happened in 7th grade. But I didn’t hate him.

While Mr. K (the Math Teacher) was explaining whatever he was explaining (as you can see, I wasn’t much of a good student. My mind wonders all the time), I started to reflect my actions.

But what caused my thought of vengeance?

Because the damn bastard boy pushed and called me a sissy.

But why he called me a sissy?

Because my spinning side-kick was weak.

But was my side-kick really weak?

The damn bastard boy didn’t show any signs of pain.

Why did you kick him at first place?

Because…

It was then, like a puzzle that had been freshly solved, I learned something about myself.

Like what John did to me in 4th grade. He punched me, just because he had never punched anyone, therefore, he experienced it on me. He ended up loosing my friendship.

I kicked the Bastard boy in 7th grade, because I have never kicked anyone before, and thought it was a good excuse for me to exercise my curiosity. I ended up being humiliated.

I was, indirectly, being a bully to myself.

It was, indeed. Karma. (And many of you wrote about it!)

I felt ashamed of what did I.

Really, I did.

My 7th grade experience of being bullied was the last in my life. I think my 10th grade was really the end of the era of me being immature. We have all came to the age where physical fighting is for ‘kids.’ (Now days, we use law suits, assassins and spasm [e]mails.)

It was indeed, a life changing experience for me.