60 – 90 MINUTE TALK ABOUT BULLIES & recovery
GET BACK UP
It wasn’t uncommon to (not) find me skipping class, playing a game of cat and mouse with my teachers around the halls of Angley School. Knowing all the best hiding spots and the limits of each teacher made me adept at finding myself uncatchable 99.9% of the time.
There was little to enjoy about the classroom. Paper planes, being sat next to an absolute plank of a person, simply for having the audacity to land next to them in alphabetical order. God – writing this, I can still smell the Monster Munch of their breath. Who the heck would stay in a room with these people?
During a particularly tedious rendition of my favourite game – I found myself in a bathroom stall in the humanities section. Spinning the toilet paper dispenser and admiring the frankly heroic ceiling art of wet paper in the shape of a dick – I took to reading this week’s scribbles on the walls.
There it was, clear as day… ‘J**** has a bucket vag!’. Finally, confirmation – it was a long lasting rumour. We were all just glad that this had cleared it up – but then, like a magpie caught to something shiny – I saw my name.
It’s not every day you become a celebrity. The consensus seemed to be incredibly supportive – as it was swiftly accompanied by ‘Ha! Go on – he’s a prick!’ underneath. It was 2002, long before comment threads on Facebook – and here it was – a discussion about the merits of a death threat.
You see – although Monster Munch breath and the thrill of bunking was the name of the game, I was running from something much, much worse.
This is the story of my bullies, their motivations, how I may have deserved it and why I kept getting up from the floor after they were done with me.