Beneath

Beneath my face and beneath the surface of my skin lies the inner truth. The deep inner past that I conceal from all of you because I fear bitter exposure. The truth about the insecurities I felt at that time, at eleven years old. At seventeen years old, I remember the way I was taunted, the way I was degraded, the way I was abused by a group of kids. I hated them. I hated them so much that there was a point I felt like ripping out their throats. My tears could burn straight through flesh with the way I hated my perpetrators. But I never lashed out. Mother taught me better: don’t fight fire with fire. But how can an eleven-year-old kid grasp the idea that this was supposed to "normal”? Here I stood emotionally, mentally, and physically hurt, just because I was smarter; just because of my culture; just because I did not have the fancy clothes; just because I was dark-skinned; just because I may have not understand their lifestyle. Suddenly I must be subject to a terrifying, tortuous, and traumatic cycle of middle school bullying; and my outlook on trusting people--trusting anyone--is forever distorted and tainted. Have you ever thought of what a person has gone through in their past? Have you ever thought of why people do not open up to those around them? Have you ever thought of the systematic terror that can be brought upon an innocent kid who is just trying to live his life without feeling like a thick puddle of uselessness every single day and night he wakes up from sleep? I didn’t think so. Some of you may not care about this story, my story. Some of you may not know why you don’t really know who I am. It’s because for you to know who I really am, you must take the time to know my agonizing, excruciating and humbling past. I have finally grown and forgiven those who have committed what I see as crimes to my human soul. I am a new person with a past, but a great present to smile at and a future to look forward to. Be careful who you bully, hurt, and internally scar. Because one day you’ll be the new victim when your old victim has not forgiven you, and he’s all the way at the top.