Stalking the former enemy

Today, I traipsed through facebook, looking at the faces of my former school bullies.

I’ve only really been bullied in one single school I’ve been to on the pretext that I am the youngest in the class. That, and the newest. (And I have been to more schools than the average kid just because I’ve moved a few times.) Weird, but I guess when you need someone to bully, you can’t be too picky and the fresh meat is the most convenient.

I was surprised to see that most of them (judging by the limited amount of their profiles available) seemed to be pretty decent people. I think if they’d taken the time to get to know me instead of harrowing me, they might have realized we shared a lot of common interests. One of the particularly nasty ones seems to have developed a particularly nasty mug. I didn’t think this happened in real life - only in stories, like “The Twits” by Roald Dahl, where an ugly inside turns the outside ugly as well. Maybe it was just bad luck? Another seems to have gone towards the Spiritual path of Wellbeing, to which I can only say, “Good luck, hypocrite!” (This is not an insult to any and all spiritualists out there, just to this particular horrible person).

I was even more surprised to realize I still held a huge grudge against them. As far as I can recall, there was never any physical violence against me, except perhaps grabbing an object belonging to me or a shove… But I still find myself greatly despising these people.

I wonder if they even remember being so mean towards some kid. Or maybe they remember and don’t remember how mean they actually were?

I am greatly amused to discover that if I hadn’t chosen the funny path I have educationwise, I might still be studying with at least half of them in University or getting a fancy Art Degree. I suppose it’s a blessing in disguise that I didn’t get into the Art university I tried for, and even better that I only gave it one shot or I’d be in the same grade as a particularly horrible (as a kid) person. Ugh.

I hope someday to get over them. I barely think of them anymore - perhaps twice a year, but each time I feel an angry clenching fist in my guts. I think that the thing fueling my disgust for them is that in the end, my supposedly best friend appeared to join them. When I moved back to Finland and tried to get back in touch with her, she said, “Oh, it’s you.” and hung up. Out of the blue. What did I do? Did I write a particularly horrible letter to her during the time we were penpals?

Maybe she was feeling guilty about the “Missing In Action” section article she wrote about me in the school graduation yearbook. She declared I was “an annoying swedish-speaking” kid who never did anything useful, “smiled too much”, and one day” popped up from under the table with a new hairdo”. What the fuck? It’s not something you expect your best friend to write about you. Ok, maybe if you stole her boyfriend or betrayed her in any way, but a completely unsolicited attack? (Believe me, it sounded worse in her own words in Finnish.) So so so so very strange and confusing.

My mother assures me that this was probably because her dad (who was a famous singer) died and she was feeling angry at the world. And I who “smiled too much” had no business being all smiley and therefore deserved to be hated and torn down.

Weird weird weird. I don’t know if my mother’s right about it, but whatever the reason, I can’t understand it. I feel sorry for the girl and hope that whatever bipolar demons her addled brain may be harboring have ebbed away since.

“Stalking the former enemy”, I wrote, but I think I may have been exaggerating a little. Looking up your former enemies on facebook just once to see if they’re still breathing air unfortunately does not yet qualify as proper stalking. However, if I make this a weekly, monthly, or daily habit, I’m willing to really declare myself a stalker!

Maybe if I actually met one of these assholes and got along with them, I’d feel better about them and be able to let it go, but the truth is that I don’t want to. I’d rather they live their happy lives far far away from me and continue to leave me in peace, the one thing I truly wished they’d done when they were still a part of my life.