Thank you to all the sweet people who commented and messaged me about my previous post. Strangely enough, I had a nice childhood. I remember the majority of it fondly. My blog post was a snapshot of a two year period, such a small part of an otherwise fine time in my life.
There was this two year period when we had transfered from our small country school, Lone Rock Elementary, in to town to the junior high. Those two years were the worst.
By the time I made it to highschool, I had a better perspective and stopped paying attention to their comments. I had my safety net and my group of friends to support me. Plus, I was too busy being a total theater/speech/debate geek. That is a pretty insular and protective world, even for small-town Montana.
Being bullied and picked on is not an experience that is uniquely my own. Even people I went to school with responded with tales of their own, and their bully was not even someone on my radar.
I feel sad for the people who can remember being bullied, but I feel worse for the people I know and love that remember they were the bully.
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