I have never been bullied.

There was that one time some kid said my red hair looked like a used tampon in front of the entire class, but that was just… odd.

I’ve been teased about my freckles and my last name. I am occasionally mocked, mostly by my children these days.

Throughout my life, people have been mean to me, hurt my feelings, but I have never experienced harassment or being backed into a corner so dark that I didn’t want to get up in the morning.

On the flip side, I can relate to being bitchy. I can even see judging another person or having a laugh at someone else’s expense. We have all done that, well maybe not all of us, but I have.

I understand not being the best version of one’s self from time to time.

I don’t understand being a bully.

Terrorizing someone until she is cowering, physically or in her mind, and then continuing. At some point when a bully has broken another, brought him to tears, isn’t there a natural human instinct that kicks in and says, “Stop that, you’re being a huge asshole.”?

How is someone so invested in causing pain?

Murder seems to get all the attention. Someone takes another person’s life because he’s a nutjob, or has anger management issues. She may be stupid or think the devil is part of her book club and that’s what made her do it. Murders could come from terrible homes and due to any number of circumstances everything boils to a head one day, and their last screw finally falls out.

Bullying is taking a life in a different way. It is sort of akin to torture.

These creeps don’t come right out and knock the person over the head or whip out a weapon of choice. Instead, bullies use words. Hurtful, cruel and ignorant words until they have widdled away at years of happy birthdays, family vacations, school pictures, firsts, and joy.

They take a human being, vulnerable for whatever reason, and they crawl inside to weaken what helps her cope, what keeps him safe.

Bullies are a special kind of evil, and while I’d like to justify that they too come from bad homes or messed up circumstances, I don’t think it’s that simple.

Bullies are more calculated. They cross every socio-economic boundary, race, religion, sexual orientation, gender. Bullies are sometimes scary and often entitled.

When something makes me angry, I put forth an effort to understand and I think I have this one figured out.

Bullies hate themselves. On the surface that seems sad, but I’m not sympathetic because instead of fixing their dark places, they go around blowing out other people’s candles.

When someone spits ugliness at me, I go quiet. I pull inside my shell until things heal.

Mean directed at my tribe, the people I love, or the delicate flowers and baby birds of this world, is a whole different story.

To all the bullies out there sharpening your tongues— figure your insecure-nasty-mess out because if I see you screwing with the lights, I’m going to say something.

Words are my game too, and you’ll lose.

My thoughts from the laundry room. One Eye Open.

courage hurt pain people stupidity thoughts words bullying coping culture life mean people people thoughts Words