by Shrouded, 11th (fiction)
I was finally able to express my regret for that mistake. It feels like I found the part of me that was missing. When I was in elementary school, I was fairly liked by other people, at least, until what I did. It was the start of the fifth grade, not a lot was happening. I noticed a boy I’ve never seen before who always wore an eyepatch. He only has one eye.
One day during lunch, two friends and I were on the field. At the time, those two were the closest thing that I could call “friends”. The boy was sitting all by himself, fiddling with his eyepatch. The two boys I was with started provoking him. They called him names like “Weirdo” and “Freak”. Before I knew it, I started to join in.
Bullying him became a regular occurrence. Eventually, things escalated. I shoved the boy on the playground. To my surprise, he threw himself on me and yelled, “Why are you doing this?”
Thinking now, I’m not sure what the answer is. Maybe it’s because I’m afraid too to find out.
The two boys watched while I fought him and, soon after, a crowd was surrounding us. A teacher stopped us and the boy was extremely beat up. My body was aching all over. We were both suspended for a week. Once I got back to school, the boy with the eye patch was nowhere to be seen. I learned he moved schools. Everyone blamed me for that.
People began to avoid me. Even the two boys who also bullied him started too. I was alone. That, by itself, hurt more than the stings of the bruises over my body.
The ostracization carried throughout into high school. I sat all by myself, watching others in their groups. Whenever there was group work, I found myself working on it alone. Other kids spread terrible rumors about me. I became extremely sad. I’ve had some thoughts of suicide. Soon after I entered high school, I saw the boy with the eyepatch again. He was joyful and wasn’t lonely anymore. I felt extreme guilt for what I did.
I went up to him. He began to look around towards the people he was with to make sure he was the one I wanted to talk to. I didn’t care anymore and just said it. “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me or not, but I was your classmate in elementary school. I’m really sorry for all the things I did.”
He stared at me and then started to laugh. “No hard feelings man. So, what’s your name?”
Oakland | East Bay, CA