Faces sneering, laughing as they hurt me. Bony fists punching my stomach, face, head and arms. Knees to the guts or groin. Being kicked when I’m on the floor. Looking up and seeing expressions of anger, hatred or worse still, amusement on their faces.
A weekly occurrence at school when I was about 11 and which persisted until I left High school 5 years later as an insulated, insecure and gangling 16 year old.
The demongs of my past are hateful, spiteful, despicable people. Full of self confidence if they were of the more superior clan of bully. Those who could genuinely handle themselves and had their own circle of friends seemed to regard their behaviour as something everyone else should just put up with. One lad who repeatedly punched or even spat on me at any given opportunity, once shouted “DON’T YOU KICK ME!” with a hoarse laugh of disbelief in the tone. I had dared to boot him in the leg while he destroyed a book I owned and repeatedly punched me in the face. Same guy once asked threateningly “what did you just say Lance?” because I blustered "YOU BASTARD!!!" after he spat onto his fingers and then flicked it into my face at point blank range.
The “shit rolls downhill” type of bullies had none of the self confidence, just a sneering desire to pass the mantle of oppression on to someone further down the food chain than they were.
Being unable to fight back after having been told everything was my fault and that being “nice” was the key to a bullying free life…I simply fantasised for days, weeks, months and years about throwing the finger spitter over the banister we were next to and watching him fall. The drop wasn’t enough to kill him unless he landed on his neck but I wanted to paralyse him. Leave him unable to walk or even feed himself. Crippled for life with other people wiping his arse.
I could continue with examples but that would serve no purpose. You get the picture. I had a wretched fucking time at school and it was made no better by my ability to recall almost everything that happened to me…even now nearly 30 years later.
These people were vengeful demons. Prowling uncontrolled through the corridors of the High school and later the corridors of my mind. Causing me to spend 45 minutes outside the youth club, till one of them came out and went home. To take a half hour detour out of my way to get home from school…in case one of them was waiting for me. And to be so paranoid by the time I was 15 that I correctly guessed that two of them were waiting in ambush for me near Abbey Fields cemetery but my crafty divert was spotted and they chased me through the graveyard (I got away and rode off making “fuck you”, V-signs…feeling safe but miserable, nowhere near elation as this was by now a regular part of my existence).
Now these demons are simply normal people and probably were then too. Most people will back off if faced with someone who will stand up for them self or who refused to be cowed. However if you tell someone that everything is his fault and he can’t fight back…then telling him to stand up to bullies is like telling an arachnophobic to man up about spiders.
Although it seemed it at the time, these people’s entire existence was not based around making my life unhappy. They were cunts but their cuntishness was one small part of their lives. Meeting some of them even 3 years later, they usually showed no memory at all of what had happened and some clearly had no memory of my past with them. Now, 25 years on from finishing the shit hole that was
appear to be the only one who remembers this in such vivid detail and also who
cares so much about the injustice of it happening in the first place.
It took decades before I realised that one person’s psychological scar is another’s boredom killer. I don’t like these people. I haven’t forgotten what they did. But I am now aware that their treatment of me and other victims was something that meant a thousand times less to them than it did to me.
Some I see on Facebook. Most have Karma there somewhere. Fat, ugly, divorced, balding and stupid looking. Others I see around and they are now decent folk. Despite what anyone says, this is more frustrating as it negates your right to still hate them, leaving you feeling unsatisfied as there’s nowhere for that rage to be channelled towards any more.
The human mind is a powerful tool. In my case it took these people and made them into powerful demons, which they most definitely weren’t. They were just lacking in compassion and were simultaneously spiteful and vicious. Their lives were not defined through their bullying and one guy I spoke to over a beer some time ago, has no memory of what he did and was genuinely ashamed to be told.
Nothing is scarier than your own imagination when it comes to how we perceive other people.
Thankfully nothing is more satisfying than your own imagination when it comes to a bullied teenager’s psychological steam valve.
The demongs in my head are dying now. I predict I will fertilise the flowers of peace and love with their decomposing remains.