I mean, it always bothers me, but it's at the forefront of my mind lately.
I was bullied. Not beaten up on the way home, but excluded. I went to 9 different schools, and was always the new kid. It took everyone less than a week to realise I was also the smart one. Mostly people talked to me when they needed help with something. Otherwise, I was always the last one chosen for everything.
What bothered me more was the bullying at home. From family.
My mothers is a bully. I remember her pointing out my wayward eyebrows before I paid any attention to them.
I remember her telling my sister (who is one of the prettiest people I know, and has had the boys chasing her since she could walk) that she had footballer thighs.
She's said a lot of other things, but I've moved on from that. The memories still hurt, but they are just memories now. I don't live through it every day.
A boy named Blake Rice is living in fear.
In the flash floods in Toowoomba his mother and brother drowned after telling rescuers to save him first.
He's currently in a cast because he broke his collar bone running away from bullies. A group of teens chased him with sticks.
He's only 10 years old and he's been receiving death threats every day since he went back to school.
Why? He's being teased because half of his family died and he survived.
A lot of this is coming from people older than him. He and his father are planning to move because of it all.
I will never understand this. I don't want to.