It was inevitable that at some point in the next few years my past would crop up. I didn’t think the time for this would be in a playwriting workshop that would completely throw me. I was speaking to a friend the other day about things in your past that you could hide at university after becoming a new person and she told me it was harder when unexpected things made you stumble. I found this out in my Creative Writing lecture this afternoon after the topic of bullies came up and the victims. We were supposed to write about our school and write a scene based on it. I had already started to squirm and decided I wasn’t writing the exercise, I wasn’t even going there. It got worse as the lecture went on as descriptions of school days came to light, what the bullies did and I could feel dark mood spreading. People started to laugh at the ‘antics’ finding the mental abuse funny.
Needless to say I left that lecture, I just couldn’t handle it. Quite frankly it’s not funny, it damages lives and can cause suicide. All the little tricks that were played never ever leave you. I know that because it’s still in my damn mind and it still makes me angry. I feel like maybe I should spit ball all those who laughed in the lecture, hide their notes before an important exam, create lies about them or just make them feel useless? Because that people is what it does to someone when you bully them because that is when it’s not funny.
Ask my Mum how she felt when her daughter would hysterically cry and beg not to be sent to school. Ask Ali how it felt watching me struggle for years with how I felt about myself. How about you ask my little sister if she understood why I was so sad when I came home from school. Funnily enough when you bully someone it doesn’t just take over their life but it takes over the lives of the people who love them too.
All this said I don’t hate the people in my lecture, I don’t believe that they are bad people but I was upset. I’m sure if they knew it, wouldn’t have been as funny but that is my whole point. Why should your perceptions change because someone is in the room, surely you should just find it awful in principle?
I’m going to try as hard as I can not to dwell on this because I have been doing so well in getting over my past. I’m finally trying to talk about things and sort out my feelings. Luckily I had a very special friend in that lecture who understood and helped get me out as soon as she could, and for that I am grateful.
It’s just a thought for you guys, although I know many of you will understand why I feel this way.