- Primo84
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"Sometimes life gives you lemons, and then you have to say 'f**k the lemons' and bail."
If you're reading this, you need to stop stalking me. If you can't stop stalking me, you might as well go here.
Does it count as bullying if the person was a legitimate pain in the ass and you genuinely disliked them?
I ask because of something that happened during my senior year of high school. There was this kid, James, who had the mindset of a hyperactive ten year-old. By this, I mean that he would do things such as pass gas loudly in class (both ends) and think it was hilarious, not bathe regularly (he smelled), and do a variety of other activities that no person with an ounce of understanding of social normalcy would ever consider doing.
I -blam!- hated this kid. In the rare instance of him speaking to me, which usually consisted of a stupid question spat in my face with the intention of being 'funny,' I'd tell him to "Go -blam!- yourself," or "You know I -blam!- hate you, right?" or something of that sort.
That being said, I never went out of my way to interact with this kid. I couldn't stand him, why would I put a damper on my day by talking to him?
My dad died of cancer when I was in high school. He went into remission once, but didn't make it through the second time.
The day I found out that he was sick again, I tried to go to school and have a regular day.
Cue James.
Between classes, this stupid mother -blam!- was galloping down the hall like a horse. I'm not exaggerating, he was galloping, smacking his ass, and making horse noises. The dude was 16 years old at the time; we weren't kids.
He gets to me and makes a horse noise in my face, spraying me with spit. It was intentional, as evidenced by him proceeding to gallop a circle around me for a moment.
I snapped, and I grabbed the goofy mother -blam!- and threw him. See, we were about the same weight, but he was a sloppy -blam!-, and I played sports. As a result, he went a bit further than I expected, and landed flat on his ass.
He screamed at me, demanding to know what my problem was. Again, I told him to go -blam!- his mother or something.
A teacher saw me and sent me to the principal's office, but I got let off with a warning after explaining James' equestrian display. (That part left the principal baffled, but he was familiar with James and saw that I was telling the truth.)
To this day, I don't regret the way I treated that kid: -blam!- him. He wasn't mentally challenged, nothing medically wrong with him, he just didn't -blam!- get it.