My earliest memories go back to my first day of preschool. I remember putting together a tower of blocks, of which I was quite proud, only to have it knocked down by another child who took enjoyment from my crying. It sounds silly to hold on to a memory like that, considering we were only a few years old, but the reason it sticks out in my mind is that it was where it all started. This was the first instance in a years-long streak of chronic bullying, and it continued in increasingly aggressive forms up until I was done with grade school. I was taunted in changing rooms before gym classes, I was physically assaulted on the buses going home, and I was shoved into lockers, just to name a few examples. Everything was a target: my height and weight, my sexuality, and even just the sound of my voice. This followed me home as well, with kids in the neighborhood acting with just as much cruelty. In one of the few instances I stood up for myself against one of these neighbors, the parents came to our home and insisted that I be the one to apologize. I put up with this sort of thing almost all of my young life, and understandably my heart and mind still hold a lot of resentment. But at the same time, the person that I've become after these years of struggle is in part a result of these challenges. So in that respect, there's actually a part of me that's grateful. It's an interesting duality, one that can sometimes lend an extra challenge when it comes to moving on from my past and pursuing my future.

There have been many times over the years when I've thought about what I would do if I ever ran into one of the people that bullied me. Many different scenarios have run through my mind. Admittedly, there is violence in some of them: the person in question makes some type of demeaning comment, and rather than cower or get upset I respond with physical force, a punch to the face or a kick to the gut. I cannot deny that these fantasies do give me a sort of satisfaction, and get my heart pumping a little bit faster. (If that's not proof that these demons still haunt me, I don't know what is.) However, I'm not by nature a violent person and so this sequence of events would be completely out of character for me. (And just to be clear for those with stories similar to mine that might be reading this, violence is never the answer and they are most certainly not worth it.) There are other outcomes I've considered in which we actually strike up a conversation and they ultimately ask me for forgiveness. How the story ends varies from fantasy to fantasy, with me sometimes refusing and other times accepting. While I can't say that forgiveness gives me the same sense of satisfaction, I also can't deny that the thought of it does give me a sense of peace.

I've thought a lot about which would be better: the satisfaction of revenge, or peace through forgiveness. Logically, I know that forgiveness is much better. But it's also hard for me to argue against satisfaction. I deserve that too, don't I? Despite these lingering questions, I function in daily life just fine. Just like any victim of chronic bullying, there will always be a part of me that struggles in coming to terms with the negativity of my past. But this struggle seems to be a source of power for that drives me continually forward, rather than one that pulls me down. At the end of the day, demons aside, I know who I am. Though it took a long time for me to find and embrace myself, now that I have I intend to never let go. Certainly not for people who are no more than ghosts of my past.