Dear Childhood bully.
I forgive you. I've never been one to hold on to resentment and anger, but in the back of my mind I do wonder sometimes why I was the one who was targeted. Why wasn't I good enough? Looking back at those years of being bullied I feel nothing but sadness. I'm sad for you. I'm sad for whatever shitty situation you were in, to make you bully others to make yourself feel better. Maybe you weren't in a shitty situation, maybe you were just a shitty person. I'll never know.
I've met you a few times after growing up. You always smile and greet me like an old friend, you always want to talk, I never have time. Do you remember things differently than I do? Did you not know that I went home everyday to cry? I spent a lot of my childhood wondering why my hair was not the right color (I knew it wasn't, because you told me so), or why it wasn't long enough or cut the right way. I wondered why I was not pretty enough, why I was to tall or to chubby. You told me I was so bad at handball I should just quit, so I did.
I know now that I'm just the right height, and my size is completely normal. And my two different eyes are beautiful, not something I should hide. My hair can be any way I want it to be, and if anybody else has got something to say about that I flip them off (inside my head of course, not brave enough to actually do it). I'm still bad at any sport, so you were probably right about that. I'll never know if practice makes perfect, because I turned out to be a quitter. If I don't get it right the first time I never try again, but I've embraced that as part of my personality.
Dear childhood bully, you didn't break me.
