Themes 3

Have you ever had your head pushed down in a toilet bowl? Have you ever walked outside of your school afraid to be beaten again? Have someone written bad, threatening things on you locker? Did they try to make you trip in the hallway? Do you know what it feels like having somebody else’s spit running down your neck? Do you remember the sudden silence when you entered the room?

Did they get to you? I hope they didn’t and I hope they never will. You might have lost many battles but the war isn’t over.

I remember school and I remember not fitting in. They had rules that I never bothered to learn. There were certain ways to act and look that I never seemed to get the hang of. They told me to cut my hair, but I didn’t. They told me to shut the fuck up, but I didn’t. They told me my music sucked but it didn’t. They sucked. In the end they lost and I won. I came out on top and it feels good to look down at them from up here.

I was twelve years old. He was one year older. It was snowing. He came to put me in line, to force me down. I refused and I snapped. I attacked him with teeth and claws. He fled. I felt the adrenaline rushing through my body. I was in tears, screaming out my rage. The other kids said well done, but they had all stood silent. It was I who had fought him off, all by myself.

Recess ended and we returned to the classroom. Lunch came and I knew there would be retaliation. I went outside, scared of what would happen. Scared not only of what he would do but of what I would do. He came back with some friends. I guess he wanted to teach me a lesson, but it backfired. All the fear I had felt just disappeared and all that was left was the rage. Hate.

I chased him over the school yard, but he was too fast. He was one of the sport guys and I was a geek. He mocked me. I see now that he must have been afraid. He was expecting a victim, someone to use to empower himself. It didn’t work, not with me. The rest of the school followed us from a safe distance. I didn’t care. All I could see was his smile and all I could think about was burying my fists in his face.

I don’t remember how long this went on but after a while a teacher came and he retreated to her, starting to throw his lies in her face. I didn’t want to get in trouble so I tried to calm down. When I came close he made that face behind the teacher’s back. He pushed me over the edge and I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

I realized that he was cornered and took my chance. He went to the ground with me on top of him and my fists started to rain down on him. What happened next I’m not sure of. He disappeared and I never got in trouble for it anyway.

I didn’t need to fight him again after this, but my problems didn’t stop. The assholes were still around but with time I learned how to deal with them. I learned how to rise above. I didn’t let them steal my focus anymore. Yes, it hurt sometimes but I used the pain and anger as fuel. They could say whatever they wanted but I knew what I was doing.

Listen to Ready for the ride.

What’s the moral of the story then? In the end I have achieved everything and they haven’t achieved shit. The things that happened to me were wrong and should have stopped, but they didn’t until the year before high school. Friends weren’t around, teachers hid and I kept it secret from my family.

Don’t accept it being like that for you. Those bastards who are after us will always be a minority if we dare to raise our voices. Be stronger and show them greatness. Don’t let them take your life from you. You are better than them and you are better than pitiful vengeance. Let your life be your vengeance. Leave them behind in a dust cloud. They’ll never be able to keep up with you.

Believe in me and I’ll believe in you. Just live. Live and win.

/ J