Wednesday 12 November 2014

Why Bullying Is a Demon

Bullying, bullying, bullying. Could there be a word which angers me more the one beginning with the letter 'B'? Afraid not, if you have ever encountered bullying - either on the receiving or witnessing end. Without delving into a heavily explored rant, bullying is horrible, horrendous and absolute hell for anybody who becomes a victim of it. As a current victim myself, I completely identify with those whose lives have been tormented by physical and verbal abuse: tragically, it seems that I've joined the saddest club to which you could ever gain admittance and is a place that I'm eager to lose my ties with as soon as possible.

Nobody likes to feel weak. Weakness is often regarded as a negative - why seek pleasure in experiencing those feelings when it offers absolutely no benefits to you? We take pride in being heralded as strong, seemingly bulletproof creatures: in some ways, living up to the 'ideal' image that we create ourselves or are influenced to believe by society. Standing up for yourself is a skill that showcases our strength at its very best and couldn't be further placed apart from the nervous, uncomfortable feelings that a 'weakling' would supposedly feel. Obviously, everybody aims to be as solid as steel. That's simply a fact of life. Yet does it actually immunize ourselves from the intimidating clutches of bullying? Not necessarily.

Ever since I started at my new school over five months ago, my life has been an absolute misery. A living hell. A nightmare in which I've been trapped since awakening on the first day of June and preparing for my very first day at secondary school - and have yet to wake up from. Usually my guards in armour, words cease to provide me strength when I describe the range of emotions I've felt over a five month period: lonely, depressed, angry. And, perhaps now the most significant of all, tired. Though my early starts in the morning obviously don't benefit my sleeping hours at all, the main cause of my frequent exhaustion relates to the bullying that I've been subjected to. Experiencing it, thinking about it and telling my family or whoever about it is more draining than one could begin to imagine. Like a bathtub being drained of its bubbly contents, I'm losing drops of energy as each second at school passes: by the time I get home, I would gladly lie on my bed and not dare to move a finger, let alone get up.

School shouldn't be like this. Nothing, from personal experience to discussions posted on the internet, could have prepared me for five months of constant aggravation. Absolutely nothing. If I did have a slight insight into what laid ahead of me, I would never have walked down this path that, since these incidents began to occur, I beat myself up for choosing. At times, my veins are pulsing with blood red anger, whereas I only need a small win on the Lottery to buy warehouse loads of Kleenex and release the sobs that rarely rise over the barriers. My emotions are often all over the place, and it tires me to keep them in check when I'm dangerously close to reaching breaking point. Is it fair? No. Should anybody be forced to endure torture in a place of learning? Never. But why is it happening?

In life, there will be many questions that I'll encounter, but will struggle to answer. From the potential existence of aliens to an Algebraic equation, I will certainly never be short of questions that will give my brain a greater workout than an episode of Countdown does. However, I've resigned myself to the fact that I will never uncover the actual truth about why I'm being bullied, despite creating several theories that may very well hit the nail on the head. When you face up to the prospect of sitting in the same classroom with your tormentors after waking up in the morning, you are so sick with nerves that you cannot think about anything else: reasons are easily forgotten because only the offensive actions made towards you matter. Still, we can second-guess that the cause of the bullying might be linked to our appearance, ethnicity, sexuality or background - or, in many cases, nothing at all.

Personally, I believe that my age (due to going back a year), previous status as home-schooled, appearance (not a single mini skirt or ballet pump in sight) and even my strong, refined accent could be taken advantage of by my tormentors. Compared to the majority of pupils, I stand out of the crowd: I've never made any effort to alter my behaviour, style and certainly the way I speak for the sake of 'fitting in'. I'm different, but my individuality shouldn't pose any problems. Unlike the offensive jokes that some pupils make, I'm neither harming nor offending anybody - why make a big deal over what I perceive as nothing? Sadly, I will never understand what goes on in some kids' minds and what provokes them to begin a hateful campaign against me; I guess that is a matter which mystery-hungry Sherlock Holmes will have the honour of figuring out.

Due to the upsetting nature of the incidents, I really have no desire to do an Oprah and reveal every single bit of the bullying I've endured - such things can be reserved for the publicity-loving stars whose sole purpose is to promote their half-funny rom-coms. However, I've been on the receiving end of shoving, offensive words and interrogation from pupils who absorb every fact about me like a soaked sponge: they are constantly hungry for new gossip. So, if I'm having an occasionally quiet day, what do these people do? Trapped in the land of boredom, they dig a way out by creating some drama... all of which is linked to me.

Conversations are resurrected with excitement if pupils have something juicy to talk about - especially if that subject is sitting several rows ahead of them in the classroom. Having developed a knack for hearing from far distances (due to my secret habit of eavesdropping as a youngster), I struggle greatly to ignore chatter about me. Only work distracts me from all of these problems, yet I'm plunged into a sea of deep misery once the bell rings for break and lunchtime - when the bullies can strike me more viciously than allowed during class.

Although my friend and I regularly hang out, most of her classes are different to mine, so we don't easily find one another at break or lunch, which means that I'm sometimes alone. When I was home-schooled, I always enjoyed having some 'alone' time because I could get on with some work and eat my lunch in peace. At school, however, these are definitely not times to be avoided: as soon as I've eaten my snack, I'm desperate to attend my next lesson because I cannot stand another second wandering in the corridors or fearing that a tormentor will find me.

For fifteen minutes in the morning and nearly an hour in the afternoon, fear grips me. If my friend is with me, my nerves are somewhat eased, yet I'm on permanent lookout when I'm by myself - after everything that has happened, I cannot afford to land myself in another incident which provides some juicy gossip that the entire school talks about for a week. And, as personal experience has taught me, telling the authorities can make the situation worse - although I would never dream of keeping these matters to myself. If somebody cannot get a grip on their bitchy behaviour, it is only right that somebody gives them a dressing down!

Demonic, devilish and downright distressing, bullying is a monster that I'm fighting to tame. As difficult as the process is, I'm trying my hardest to block out the bad stuff and work to the best of my ability; failing to do so would allow the bullies to believe that they have won. As if I'm willing to give them a hint of satisfaction!

One day, I hope to read this entry and look at my experiences with a different, wiser perspective. Obviously, bullying isn't just limited to children - adults can suffer from it more horrifically, yet experiencing it at school is equally horrible. I seek to emerge from this dark tunnel as a stronger person - despite occasionally falling prey to weakness and low confidence - who is better equipped at warding off stupid and vicious people. Do they honestly believe that they are the most powerful human beings on this planet or are they delusional? At times, school reminds me of a mental asylum: some people are just crazy. But I'm not - it is pretty fair to say that I'm one of the sanest pupils there.

Success beckons for survivors like myself - unless you gain a degree in the subject, I doubt that many of my bullies will lead charmed lives. During the darkest times, I get a kick out of imagining how great my future will be while they spend it at the job centre, receiving a cheque to feed their nine hundred kids or so. My gain, their loss...


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