When the bullied became the bullier.

I came across a post on Tumblr by a blog that encouraged it’s followers to write a story starting off with or to contain the sentence ” Of course I was hurt the entire time. I just didn’t say anything. “

So I decided to share mine with my followers and people in general on here.

When the bullied became the bullier.

Of course I was hurt the whole time. I just didn’t say anything.

I had a hard time speaking up and using my voice. It was almost as though I hadn’t found a voice of my own that wasn’t shaky and half silent, half vocal.

They would taunt and tease me almost every single day.

You’re not feminine enough. Are you a boy or a girl? You write like a man. You’re in the wrong washroom, this is the girl’s.

Prior to being bullied regarding my gender identity, I had repeated grade 3 and that’s when it started. Before being called names and being made fun of, my biggest worry regarded getting home late after an after school activity and missing my favourite show on the television. I knew what bullying was, but I had never really been a victum of it before, or not to my awareness.

Can I do the same work as everyone else? I asked my grade 6 teacher. No you can’t.

No you can’t. 

Shot down by one of the school’s teachers. Just because I had a hard time with the work that the majority of other students my own age had been given.

Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t realized that being told that I couldn’t do something that other people could do, actually became the root of a few major incidents in my life. The root cause of many issues.

For years, I let people step over me, trample on me as though I almost wasn’t there. Treated as though my very presence was minor instead of influential.

Finally out of nowhere, my voice was found and it was being heard, but not listened to. Muffled by the gossip that flooded the halls, drowned out underneath the sea of fake friends and victumizers.

It was then that I became the bullier.

I stopped allowing people to treat me like a broken piece of glass. Word escaped my mouth that I wouldn’t dared to have spilt out prior. I stopped feeling bad for what I had thrown at others. Eventually, the feeling of power flooded through my veins and not just through my head.

Mind games. Torment. Emotional torture.

Eventually that’s what I put everyone through who crossed my paths, who showed any interest in me. I barely trusted anyone, so testing people became second nature to me after a while because it was easier to let people have my wrath, than for me to trust them right off the bat and have it gone to waste.

Balance finding.

Although I’ve been hurt, and hurt others, I’m trying harder to find a balance between trusting and not being too vulnerable. So far, it’s becoming less difficult.

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Common Ground

I hope that you find common ground between the darkest depths and the lightest steps
Where you are content and comfortable

I hope that the horrible shouts aren’t only hushed, but drowned out by the quiet screams of sanity

I hope that if I can’t help you, that you can find help within yourself

I hope that these words somehow flood through your veins with such strong clarity

Random Scents

I tell you that I love you 5 million times a day even when you don’t respond
I randomly think of you during the strangest times
I could be walking in an isle at a store where you’ve never been and all of a sudden, there you are amongst the words on a cereal box
I could be talking to someone about the weather and out of nowhere, you’re burning through me hotter than it feels outside
I could be folding my laundry and the scent would be enough to remind me of your smile

Habitual Experiences

So for as long as I can remember, I’ve been biting my nails. Probably ever since I realized that I could bite my finger nails.

The thing is, I’ve heard that putting nail polish on your nails doesn’t help, but for me, I always end up scraping the polish off with my teeth.. but it works in that way because once the nail polish is all off, I for some reason don’t end up biting my nails.

Sometimes I find myself nibbling on them, but then noticing and stopping myself.

It’s neat how habits work. What stragety may help someone stop their habit, may not always work for others. Which is very true in most cases.

I’ve been going to therapy now and for some reason I’ve felt the need to quit this one habit even though it isn’t really hurting me other than putting extra bacteria back into my body that I could live without. It helps me when I’m nervous.

I’ve also had the habit of rocking in rocking chairs to the point of them breaking. I’vebeen doing this since I was young as well. I just sit there and listen to music and zone out. I find myself doing so mostly when I’m stressed and at night in the wee hours.

We all have habits we are embaressed of, or atleast have a habit that many people endure but to a certain extent. But sometimes I feel weird about my habits.

I will hopefully grow out of them all.

Canvas Lashes

Song that I am listening to while writing the following poem: 

Let Me Go By KDrew, Rico & Miella

If only I could muster of the words to tell people exactly how I feel                                                                                                                                                                               As limited as my vocabulary is, my breath mutters more than any definition could scream                                                                                                                                       So the way my body moves is it’s own language undefined, unnoticed

Tear drops are the one thing I can rely on, just as pictures explain more than anything vocalized ever could                                                                                                       It’s taken me years to realize, appreciate such gestures as those subliminal images                                                                                                                                             Atleast for now, poetry radiates a bit of what can be seen if you allow your imagination to gather enough information from such things

For now, kisses are the one form of poetry I haven’t experienced enough                                                                                                                                                                 The way lips softly brush the canvas with light strokes and                                                                                                                                                                                       butterfly lashes fluttering quickly as fast as one blinks                                                                                                                                                                                           marking it’s territory by leaving trails of salty tear like substances

One day I’ll be able to find a new canvas to project such broad ideas onto                                                                                                                                                                 and jump back and look for a bird’s eye view as such an illusion may appear from afar

Change can change people.

It’s amazing how much can happen in a year, two years or even a few months.

I’ve pushed so many people away, mostly good. I’ve gone back to the people who brought nothing but toxicity upon my chest and left those that actually meant something to me. I didn’t realize it until they were gone.

Recently, I had got into an argument with one of my sisters whom which was my best friend. They overreacted in response to something, but so did I because I realized that I no longer could handle being near them.

Mostly because I felt like I was only staying in her life because I was reliving my teenage years through her and we were too alike and I had to move forward and grow up.

As much as I miss them at times, I’m still a bit less overwhelmed. Someone else is still haunting me from my past. I’ve done some things I regret, but I’m still trying to change my ways and I have but they refuse to believe that I can change.

Honestly, as much as I’m still the same person, as much as the time I still spend indulging in some old habits, therapy has been helping me.

I used to avoid therapy like the black plague. I gave myself reasons not to go. 5 sessions in with my new therapist and I feel better, not the best I cam be because whether I had years of issues or not, it’s still going to take time to figure my life out. Especially if I want to transition or not.

By I’m farther than I was and it’s okay to take steps backwards as long as I keep going forward. Which I’m trying to.