Simply Give It Time…By Linda Wairegi

All you have to do is simply give it time. He doesn’t remember what he did to you. That includes all the moments shared by both of you, tender or not.  It wasn’t all fun and games as you both did high school together. He was a kid that bullied you.

 

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Funny thing is your tyrants don’t always seem to remember whatever they put you through. They may have made life harder on you. Call it selective amnesia. Perhaps you were both ‘cool acquaintances’ in their head, even though you underwent your own version of ‘Mean Girls’ under their regime. It sounds a little ridiculous in your head since you’re technically an adult. You’re over 18 years old. You are either in university or chasing that paper.

As you cross your fingers real tight and wish over a shooting star for karma to happen. Fictional scenes keep replaying, pausing and forwarding in your head every time that you’ve ever thought of a reunion between both of you.

There’s always a thing or two that were left unsaid.

What I really thought about them? Why I should’ve faced them? Why did I think that they were a big deal? How I should have loved myself a long time? Or how I’ve outgrown all that stuff and I only care about things that add to my life positively.

Your bully could’ve been the hottest thing to over-excited puberty-induced boys. Nobody knows. As they flocked towards the same over-bloomed, over-hyped and over-plucked flower. Again, nobody knows.

Boys tend to beat whomever tries to pick on them but girls engage in a war of words. Girls can’t afford to be physical because they don’t want to mess up their hair or ruin their make-up. Plus, fathers teach their sons how to throw a punch whilst mothers teach their girls how to cook.

If you turned out into a therapist, then you realize that your bully was nothing more than a silent victim who needed someone to truly see them and help them get back on track.

Time always heals all wounds but you’ll never forget the people that put you through hard times.

A little devil on your right shoulder tries to remember if you look good. Like a Cosmopolitan magazine. Fun. Sexy. Fearless. You want to look good and carefree. It’s not every day that you bump into a bully. The angel on your left quips up. You made peace with the past and you’re way above it. Your left shouts back. Do you have to let it go without getting even? I wonder…*wink wink*

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