17/05/2024
IS IT FUN TO TRAMPLING OTHERS TO SEE YOURSELF BETTER ?
Suddenly, memories of school days flood back—years of being bullied, ostracized, and misunderstood—all because of my differences.
I was different because I was born into a family with better conditions than the average. However, I felt confused—I didn’t know the things I should know, like hair trends or fashionable clothes.
Instead, I cared about topics that few people my age did, such as the founder of the Red Cross, Henry Dunant from Switzerland, or Louis Pasteur, the Frenchman known as the father of the vaccine industry.
I remember speaking in front of my middle school class about the original nature of vaccines—a weakened pathogen injected into the body to build immunity.
The class erupted in laughter, but luckily, my biology teacher confirmed that I was right. Otherwise, whole class will laught at me forever.
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In middle school, there was another incident. A group of students hesitated to enter our teacher’s house. We had dropped by in the morning to give gifts, but she wasn’t home.
When we returned in the afternoon, empty-handed, only one child dared to step inside. I thought it was a small matter—why bother? The teacher wouldn’t care about three trivial things. So, I rushed forward.
She asked why I was alone, where the others were. I blurted out that they shy cuz no gift and she laughed heartily, telling them to come in. The whole group breathed a sigh of relief, no longer standing awkwardly outside.
Yet, from the next day until the end of the school year—and sometimes even two years later—whenever teachers entered the classroom, they’d remind us, blaming our class for thinking strangely.
They tell us they not as greedy for gifts and profit. Then more than half of the class would give me complicated looks, as if I were the foolish one.
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And then there was high school. I was quite fat, nearsighted, hyperactive, and always asking questions. I often expressed opinions contrary to the majority.
Some classmate has said, “She is gay—don’t play with het; it’s disgusting.” Idk how bad is that. I only know when they need me, I always ready to help, explain about lesson , and give them notebooks to rewrite.
Back then, I didn’t realize I was being talked about. I was just lonely. The more isolated I felt, the more I wanted to appear useful—even if I knew I was being taken advantage of. But being taken advantage of in various situations ultimately affected my judgment.
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In high school, transitioning from regular classes to specialized ones brought together diverse students. I preferred reading books and watching movies during summer break rather than taking extra classes.
Only meet new class on the day we arranged seats, I defended one young new teacher, leading others to call me crazy and accuse me of show off. I faced ostracism for quite a while.
Sometimes, I still feel a twinge of sadness. The long years of youth passed, not beautifully, but filled with pain.
I wonder if those who spread rumors, deliberately provoked, and manipulated others still remember me. But I remember them—the loneliness and pain leaving scars that follow me for life.
