Bullying

By Anonymous

Bullying – was supposed to die when we were in kindergarten. When the teachers scolded kids for being mean. When we learned that our words can hurt people. When we were taught not to hit each other, despite Jason pulling on Sarah’s pigtails. But Bullying never died. It grew and festered like a gaping wound. It leaked into your souls, making them black as tar. Aren’t you too old for name-calling? This is college. You do know that, right? I watch you all. I see the way you call someone your friend when they’re around and a slur when they're not. I watch you gawk and whisper. You never even try to hide it. You’re shameless. I watch you assume the worst about everyone while being the worst version of yourself. You post about “supporting mental health” while typing KYS behind a screen. And I want to feel angry for the people you hurt without a second thought. I want to hope the same happens to you. That you learn how much words can sting. But I can’t. When I watch you hurt others to feel good about yourself, all I feel is pity. I pity you. That your life must be so sad and lonely if you need to hurt someone to feel big. I hope bullying dies in you. That you can change and grow. If bullying finally dies, I’ll lay white roses upon its grave. I’ll shed a tear for everyone we lost because someone felt they were better than humanity, kindness, and empathy. Our mothers raised us with “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.” I think you all could use a reminder.