Let’s begin.

A few days ago I started thinking about some of my experiences in high school.  Despite lots of amazing, there were times that I can only describe as dark and they had a profound effect on me.  I decided to write it down.  The result is a sort of essay.  I’ve decided that as I edit it and refine it, I’ll post it serial style and then post the full version at the end.

I have no idea why I was bullied.

I do know, at times (that are more often than not), that I think there was something about me that led to the bullying.  I’m pretty sure that I never did anything so that I  deserve to be targeted. Scratch that, I know I didn’t do anything to deserve it.  That doesn’t seem to matter because my default position is one where I try to figure out what was wrong with me.

Not the me now mind you.  I’m awesome now, but maybe I wasn’t so awesome back then, or maybe I was.  I don’t know.

I spent my first two years of high school abroad, in two different international schools and then returned home to Canada for the last two (or three).  I wasn’t bullied until I came back “home”.  That’s always been the most curious thing to me.

Why not there?  Why here?  I’m pretty sure that I was the same kid the whole time.

End of Part One

PART TWO

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