General

The hero takes the punch for a friend when they could easily step aside; the bully throws the punch they could easily choose to make an open hand of friendship. Decide who you are.

General

I saw in those eyes as you hit me both the scared child you are and cold stare of someone far older than we. Tell me, in that moment of attack, who are you? Are you the parent who hurt you, disguised under layers of excuses, of stories you tell yourself about me? Are you desperately trying to be the one at the other end of the punch? Because I saw it in those eyes as you hit me and I hope you get the help that you need, someone to love you until your eyes change back to the innocent way of children and "the good."

General

I can mourn for the person you should have been, for that pure spark of a child that became what you are... only able to feel a sickly surge of delight when you inflict pain on another... but I must rescue myself first, get far far away to a place where your feet aren't even ghosts. My soul is a strong, strong flame, and it deserves to bring light as it was born to... and as I speak these words, your gale becomes still, your fists turn to ashes, and your sneer becomes a label for your failure to hold into love. Bully for you, maybe, but not me.

General

Even when I sit quietly she seeks me out, sidling up for her next power fix. Her victory is a forgone conclusion, her ego boost at my expense guaranteed. She feeds off me like an aphid on new spring growth, leaving energized and buzzing as I feel drained and tense. She is my bully, but to me she is more of a parasite, boosting herself at a cost to others. I can't be that way, I boost myself by being kind and thoughtful. And so even though I come off worse every time in the eyes of our peers, I'd rather be me than her. She's vapid inside, needing these transitory external crutches. I am solid from the core and the difference is vast.

General

I was almost ten when I figured out the true cause of bullying in schools, but who's gonna listen to some kid? Anyway, I'll tell you the story, let you decide if I'm right or if I'm a bit cracked in the head. We had the best classroom teacher, she was so awesome. We got our work done and there was still had time to relax and laugh. No-one got bullied, it was more like being part of a big family than a classroom.

Then one day our teacher was sick, we didn't know it, but she would be out for weeks. Her replacement arrived like she'd come to wage war on us. No speaking was tolerated or it was names on the board, minutes standing outside the room and whole class detentions at recess and after school. We lost our appetite for work and kids who had always been sweet to one another, caring like siblings, turned on the nicest kid in the class because he wore old sneakers. That kid was, and still is, my best friend since kindergarten. That's when I knew, you put that much pressure into a classroom, where do you expect it to go? They can't take it out on the teachers, so the most soft natured kid gets it. The next day I wore the oldest and smelliest sneakers I could find and sat next to my buddy of five years, if they wanted a slice of him they'd have to take me on too.

So that's when I knew, kids aren't naturally mean, they're just kids - but put in a teacher who bullies and puts stress on them and watch them change. Glib slogans are easy, leading by example is hard.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 26, 2015.
General

Mom watches Sylvie open her gift, tension playing over her gaunt features. She doesn't look like that when the rest of us open ours. Even if I gush gratitude I'll barely get a smile or a glance. Inside the store-wrapped box t's the kind of silver bracelet I've been begging Mom to buy me, the kind my sister already as six of. Sylvie pouts. Mom's eyes bulge. Without a word Sylvie puts it back in its box and tosses it onto her pile of gifts that exceeds mine by almost double. In this way she ensures more is spent on her next year. Before I can stop myself I ask if I can have it. My sister opens her mouth but she's cut off by mother. Apparently: I'm too fat, it will never fit, I have to loose twenty pounds before I can hope to attract a boy, my grades aren't good enough and I'm destined to be lonely and unloved. That's where she's wrong though. I have Jimmy and the day I turn sixteen I'm gone. Then they can have their stupid christmas's on their own, stewing in his dysfunctional mess.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, December 26, 2014.
General

He clenched his fist, a vein popped out of his forehead. He swung his arm. I began to feel light-headed, my legs gave way and I crumbled to the ground. My vision blurred as tiny droplets of sweat ran down my forehead. After ten minutes or so, I awoke. Only to find out all the cash in my pocket was gone.

By goodvibes, March 18, 2015.
General

I look down as the girl shouts insults at me, I try not to show that I'm hurting inside. What else can i do? Suddenly I felt her fist hand on my face. I stumble backwards and blood trickles from my nose. She flips her hair and turns to leave.

By canadiangeese, January 16, 2015.