Bullying is a weird word.
I think a lot of people who have been victims of social behaviour that makes them feel like absolute sh*t are reluctant to call it ‘bullying.’
Often, you’re not being publicly taunted, you’re not being physically hurt, you’re not being threatened, and there’s no overt aggression anyone else can identify.
Instead, it’s passive. It’s painfully subtle, it’s frustratingly camouflaged, and it makes you feel crazy.
When I was in early high school, I was ‘bullied.’ One girl in particular seemed intent on letting me know that a) everything I did was annoying, b) no one liked me and c) I was a loser. Luckily, I’m a twin, and since both my twin and I were the targets of all the smirks, cruel expressions, laughter and planned ostracism, we at least had each other. We could always validate that what we thought had happened had actually happened, and could empathise with each other’s pain and anger.
I vividly remember going to the movies at a shopping centre, and meeting up with our group of friends. This one girl (whom I’ll refer to as ‘S’), started to whisper and giggle and made a comment about our clothes being ugly. This was normal, so we just headed up to buy our tickets. But while we were standing there waiting, S counted down from three, and everyone ran away.
It was just my sister and I left, in the middle of the shopping centre, with no phones, no friends, and no idea what we were supposed to do.