Dear Bully,
Why are you so cruel? Why do you enjoy yelling and screaming at people who are younger than you?
Why do you find enjoyment in finding the faults of others, preying on them, surviving off their weaknesses as if they were your food?
What pleasure does it bring you to bring a motherless child down, a person who once looked up to you?
Your intelligence is admirable – quick on your feet but put to poor use. Why don’t you use your intelligence to build up those who are feeble? Why don’t you open your mouth if you feel I have offended you? Do you ever give thought to how YOUR actions affect others around you? So much potential, please listen to what others are telling you – The only thing that anybody wants is for you to become a better you.
“She just wants to be loved” – you say. If you know that to be true, then why wouldn’t you sprinkle some goodness on this young girl who doesn’t live in a house surrounded by family like you?
Dear bully, I actually used to admire you and enjoyed the times we spent together when you seemed so “cool.”
But now, I no longer have any desire to be around you, because you have proven without a shadow of a doubt that you are CRUEL. In my heart of hearts, in my own way, I tried to protect you – because I believed that there was good inside of you, but now … girl, I’m tired of looking like boo boo the fool. I’m tired of trying to highlight the speck of kindness in you. You would never know I tried to protect you because you have chosen silence as your new tool, a psychological weapon – I’m tired of fighting with you. I’m tired of this mental torment, and anxiety that wells in my heart anytime I’m around you.
I am tired of you. My mind is tired of trying to make sense of why you do the things you do. My mind is tired of feeling like I owe anything to you – one who mocks others for believing something different from you. Please go about your way. I 100% wish the best for you.
* To anyone who has been bullied – bullying is a choice. It is not because of anything you did or did not do. *

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