Big Fat Bully.

Sometimes we don't know why we are bullied, we just are. Sometimes all it takes is one person to hate us and then it can easily turn our entire world upside down. That hate, which stems from fear, which stems from insecurities can create such a living hell for one single, innocent person. And the fucked up part is that it might not have anything to do with the victim. Nothing at all. Nothing different, nothing wrong, just a person who stumbles onto a situation they cant get out of. Just because of one stupid jerk. And that one jerk will get others to feed into it because of their fears and insecurities. And the victim becomes completely self-aware of everything and is all-consumed with their actions, the things they say, everything that makes them who they are...or what they themselves perceive as different. And it becomes this cancer, this thing that eats at them. These names, these actions, everything hurts more and more and you become sensitive and almost psychotic over it. You hate yourself and you hate everyone and you don't know why, because when it all comes down to it, you never did anything. You just existed, and if your existence alone caused all of this horror, then maybe you would be better off not existing, and instead giving them nothing more to hate than themselves.


I have continually stalled on Kayden's Toby for one reason: I don't want to remember what it felt like to be bullied.

To write you have to put yourself in the place where you want others to go, but what's frightening about that is going back to a place you have since gotten past. A place you never ever want to go again.

I just don't know if I am ready to be bullied again.

Strangely enough, being back in Chico is like being back in a world full of petty shit and rumors. Just like high school, or worse, junior high. God I hated junior high...and in some sick way I loved it too. In junior high I was brought down quite a few pegs. I was a sassy, snobby, run of the mouth little shit. And I got what I probably had coming to me. It was horrible and definitely left a lasting impression (some would say scars) but in the end, I learned from it, but only because I survived it.

Unless you have been through it, you have no idea what it feels like.

Moving back brought back all those horrible feelings again. But not at first.

I came back into the "fun crowd", the "cool kids" the ones that everyone wanted to hang with. We were wild and fun and did stupid shit and along the way I fell in love with a boy who in turn fell for me. Unfortunately, the rest of the group was not ok with it. I was over at his apt all the time and his roommate was getting annoyed and jealous, not because he wanted to be with me, but because he wanted to be with his friend. I never invited myself over, I only came by when I was invited, but soon, even though this boy and I couldn't get enough of each other, the roommate thought otherwise. Soon, between the roommate and a friend of the group I confided in, things were getting hairy. Then the ex gf would call at 2am, and text and all of a sudden she started in. It was a matter of weeding me out.

Nothing is worse than being hated for no reason. For people disliking you out of fear of who you are. I came into that group confident, proud, ready to take on the world. Then slowly, like siblings too close in age, we got on each others' nerves and before we knew it we hated each other and then one day, it exploded in our faces, and I was thrown out like shrapnel, losing myself and everything I knew myself to be.

They destroyed me.

Maybe I needed the humbling. After all, I did move back to find myself. Little did I know I'd find myself broken and torn apart by a bunch of assholes I didn't really know. And that was it. They did not know me. And the things they thought about me were so warped and misconstrued because of their own fears and insecurities, that in the end, the only thing they knew to do was hate.

It's easier to hate than it is to love.

It's been over a year now, almost two, and funny enough, after all of it, majority of them came back and apologized. Not all, but the roommate, the one who helped initiate it all, admitted that what he did was wrong. We are friends again. Maybe a little closer than before. Maybe a little more distant. In a lot of ways, that doesn't change the fact that he and them destroyed my world, but there is some solace in knowing that he has a guilty conscious.

After finally getting my life on track after that, I look back and see all the things that went wrong and I know I am just as much at fault for putting so much emphasis on their approval. But it's human nature to want to be liked. I recently felt the sting again this past week. A young guy and I were hanging out and then things ended abruptly. I have no idea why and the curiosity kills me. It could be as simple as he is a total douche and just used me, or it could be that he heard something that unfairly depicted me, or maybe, in the end, I was the douche.

I may never know.

And I guess, it doesn't really matter. People can have their asshole comments, and dirty rumors, but in the end we are all fighting the same fight and trying to live in the same fucked up world. Maybe it's time we all took a step back and thought to ourselves, "How would I feel if someone was doing that to me?" and maybe we would finally see what it's like to feel like an outcast.

And maybe I will get the balls to finish Kayden's Toby...

maybe...