All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
One Brave Bully
“I’m a bully, I was a bully.” The hardest words I’ve ever had to say to myself. Realizing I hurt someone, and didn’t care. Actually laughed at the things I had caused them to do. A horrible feeling not at the moment: however, starting freshman year with no one was a feeling that stung every minute. Middle school was a breeze when I had friends to laugh, and point, and pick on other kids. Teenagers my own age, dealing with similar problems, maybe even bigger than mine. Being so conceited and cruel took a toll, and I learned the hard way that being the bully only gets you so far. I needed to change, I decided to apologize.
The one person I thought about when I was getting ready for freshman orientation was a girl. Someone I used to think was meaningless, she meant nothing to me. But now a long, lonely summer later I pictured the things I caused, I remember telling her she was nobody and to stop standing up for herself because no one cared. The next day a school official told me the teen was found punching holes in the girls bathroom, and crying because the things I had said. In a perfect world I probably should have felt bad and stopped my tyranny, but I laughed and used it against her instead. I took it further and wrote things about her where I knew she’d see it. Funny thing is I had “friends” then, to laugh with but when it was over and our victim had lost their will to fight back, I was the one who was left. Who became meaningless, with no one?
I friended the wrong people, and believed they needed me as much as I depended on them. Being a bully alone is like becoming a victim of only you. Some people are strong enough to look past the things I’ve said and done, but she, who I’ve chosen to remain nameless, can never. And somehow I guess it’s for the best. So I can’t hurt her again, and from a distance I can see she’s happy. Because she had true friends, ones that didn’t care if she cried or if she was made fun of. I someday hope to become that content with myself and the people around me.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 1 comment.
8 articles 0 photos 4 comments
Favorite Quote:
"When you see a mountain do you see a challenge, or a change of heart?"- me, 2010