Dear David.
You probably forgot about me. Thats okay. I was really thinking for a while who I would write about. My mind went from terrible dictators and political ideologies to former teachers. But I'll settle on you, only because I really don't think I can get myself to HATE them or view them as the enemy. Yeah, teachers can be bad, but usually they dont mean it(and they do it to the whole class). And I'm in a democracy, so I dont have to worry about dictators no matter what they do in other countries. But you went the extra mile.
I was 7. You were 9. You were making fun of my older sibling. They were having a hard time even in elementary school, and you and your friends would always be the reason. So I stand up to you. I talk you down. Then, on the bus, I take a window seat by myself. You choose to sit right next to me.141Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJf5JqGFSvZ
Yes, I admittibly used the worst word I knew at the time on you: Fuckass. Cursing was like a magic wand back in those days, and I didn't really know what sounded 'cool' or like a normal swear. But it did the trick. It got you angry.
Angry enough to beat me up in the bus. I remember you punching my face into the window, over and over again. I remember crying as you got up to get off your to your stop. I remember you telling my sibling that "I have to watch my language" as you went off. I remember crying until I got out of the bus.
Its kind of strange, thinking that one of my worst school moments was when I was 7. Or that fights happen in elementary school, but surprisingly they do. I never really got beat up again by you, or by anyone else in the bus(minus the time someone hit me with their winter hat really hard). Honestly, Im kind of grateful it happened then rather than enduring hard shit through middle school and high school. I got it out of the way, atleast.
Ive barely seen you since then. I never saw you in high school, or really in middle school. The last time I saw you I think I was 10 or 11, and the weirdest thing was that you were several inches shorter than me. Either you're really short or I got tall really young. I sometimes wonder if I saw you today, what would happen if I was still really taller than you. What could I do to you?
And I think thats the funny thing. I really dont hate you. It was only one time, and Ive really moved on. In fifth grade they put in an adult to moniter the bus, so I hope nothing like what happened to me happens again to anyone else.
But you put all your anger and strength into beating someone else up. You always made my siblings time a living hell, and children in elementary school are supposed to be pure and wholesome and innocent. But even still, I completely dont give a shit. I dont think about it anymore. I dont care about it anymore. Im not even slightly mad, although sometimes the idea of righteous fury makes me smile. I survived, I moved on, and Im doing great, at the behest of you. And I think this is kind of the essence I was trying to capture, whether I wrote about you or someone else. Ultimately, no matter how they effected(or will effect, assuming I make a few enemies in the future) me, I'll just move on and be happy. And thats how you beat an asshole. They're already sad themselves. But to see the people whos pain they get their only satisfaction out of, still happy? Now thats terrible for them.
And thats not to say that you're still mad at me, David. Perhaps I remember this all wrong and you only gave me one punch. Maybe you were purposly trying not to hit me hard, because that day I didn't come home bloody or bruised. I still dont know. I know Ive been an asshole too(although not physically) so I guess we have that in common.
Ultimately, I dont forgive you. You didnt have to beat me up. You didnt have to be an asshole to my sibling. And I dont have to forgive you because so much time has passed and it will bring peace to my heart or some shit. Some things shouldnt be forgiven, especially if they dont bother anyone much.
Anyway, this was honestly pretty fun to write. Kind of enlightening, not only to talk to the enemy but to speak to them at a deeper level. I hope your having a terrible day.
Signed,
me
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