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.
Freaks you out right!....
ReplyDeleteI live in a town 100's of miles from the town I grew up in, the other day I walked into a business that my company is a regular customer of, and he's there, standing at the counter, the boy (now man) who made my late childhood and early teens miserable.
He's a customer too.
He looks straight at me when my entry through the sliding automatic doors gets his attention and in that instant when I recognise him I instantly want to puke.
Does he recognise me?
What the fuck is he doing here?
Instantly I'm terrified, but I dare not show it.
I don't even loose step, I even smile a friendly smile.
Creepily, I think he's actually checking me out, makes my skin crawl.
At home later I get on Facebook and type in his name.
Yep.
It's him. He lives local, he has a wife and baby (how desperate must that girl have been?)
I delete my fb account in the hope that he doesn't find me and put things all together.
And I do my best to avoid places I might see him.