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View Diary: I'm so angry, I'm crying; I'm so sad, I want to scream. (185 comments)

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  •  You brought up a memory (5+ / 0-)

    When I was in Jr. High there was a boy who bullied me (among many others) non-stop, he would throw my books from my desk before English class and if I touched his he would grab my arm and wrench it behind my back until I was in pain and tell me over and over "I'm going to break it!"  No one in authority ever did anything, despite him being a strong boy and my being female, of course, and if I told I was sure it would make things worse with the retaliation.  

    One day I had had enough of him.  He had begun finding my little outcast group in the commons area where we would grab junk food from the machines and "safely" eat lunch.  He would walk back and forth harrassing and name calling and threatening every day.  I went home one night and took a nearly empty tube of toothpaste and filled it with all sorts of stuff in the bathroom, one being rubbing alcohol.  I put it in my purse.  The next day he started up and I yelled at him to shut up.  Predictable he grabbed my shoulders and shoved me angrily against the brick wall, threatening to beat me up.  My purse was in my left hand and I had just enough mobility to get my right hand into it and get the tube out.  He was confused at what I was getting and that gave me an opening and I squirted it all full in his miserable face.  I can still see him standing there with his hands on his face screaming "my eyes, my eyes" and then running off.  I was a hero to my little group for that one day.

    Of course I was called to the Principal's office, normally terrified of the effect that getting in trouble would have on my mentally ill Mother's stability at home, I didn't care this time.  The principal asked what happened and I told him.  He looked at me for a moment and told me to go on.  That was it.  My safety was of course threatened by the boy, but fortunately my friends huddled around me between classes.  He was standing outside the bandroom after we finished practice with his fists balled up, but he knew he couldn't fight everybody off.  He never tried to harm me as he wanted to that day, but I can't recall if it really stopped him or not.  At some point soon after this I decided that fighting them was useless and I needed to be silent and unnoticed.  I worked very hard on this until I graduated.  It became a conscious effort every day.

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