When I got to 5th grade though, I became popular. I had friends. I had power. AND I used it to make someone else feel like I use to. There use to be a guy named Ricky that went to school with me. He had red hair, messed up teeth, and smelled. I told him that everyday. I was blunt, and I was a bully. He changed schools because of me. He couldn't take the torment I made him go through. Looking back I hate myself for what I did to him. I made him feel like I did. I made him feel worthless, and hate himself for things that weren't his fault.
When I got to 8th grade I had stopped bullying people, but I didn't stop the bullies. Then one day on the bus I did. This girl was going off on a guy because he was different. I let her finish and waited to see if he said anything. He didn't. That was when I did. I told her that she was being a bully. That no matter how she justified what she just said to herself it was wrong. She needed to hurt someone else to make herself feel cool, and that, was anything but cool. She got really quiet. Everyone did. Her eyes were looking at me, and so were his. Both sets filled with tears. I told her we all say mean things. We all hurt people sometimes, but when we are the ones getting hurt it changes everything. We don't know what other people are going through, and chances are we never will. I told her I hope she was ok with who she was, because when the lights turned out at night, that's all she was guaranteed.With that I sat back down. The bus was dead silent except for the guy who just got picked on moving to sit with me. He said he would never forget that. He offered me money, a picture, whatever he could think of for what I just did for him. I told him I was making up for what I did to other kids. I told him I needed to use my voice to help someone else find theirs, because no one did that for me when I was little. I needed to do that, to be ok with who I was when the lights went out.
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