Then I saw you. Right there. What the fuck are you doing being the friend of someone I once cared about? You're looking back at me from the screen of my tablet. Middle aged. Balding. I see you don't share much, except your profession: Accountant. That seems... Appropriate.
While looking at your picture I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. My stomach knots. My pulse races. My body reacts viscerally, fearfully. I feel shame for feeling this way. Why can't I control my emotions?
I hate you. I hate you for singling me out for your ceaseless torment. I hate you for hitting me. I hate you for your swearing and abuse. I hate you for your scorn piled on anyone who showed friendship or kindness for me. I hate you for making my school life a misery and for making me want to die.
I fucking hate you. I especially hate you for the power you still hold over me, even 30 years later.