There’s nothing quite like a gab session with old friends. Reliving the embarrassing and exciting moments of childhood can provide catharsis and joy in equal measure, especially now that we’re looking back with the perspective of mature adults. So when my buddies and I started reminiscing about our elementary school years, I was prepared to laugh and tease, only to be met with a horrible realization. I was retelling a story from childhood and realized I was not a perfect cherubic nine-year-old, but rather a demonic, evil bully.
What the fuck? But this doesn’t align with my narrativized sense of self at all!
My friend Jessica Park and I were reminiscing about how fun it was to come to elementary school in our Halloween costumes, when I brought up the hilarious story of how I tricked our classmate – notable loser Franklin Moore – into coming to class in his Spiderman Halloween costume two days too soon. I was laughing and nudging Jessica when it dawned on me that she wasn’t joining in for some reason.
“Yeah, that was really mean of us,” Jessica said, regret in her eyes. “Franklin didn’t deserve it. Every day I wish I could take back that moment, but I don’t think I ever will come to terms with my guilt.”
“Woah, what?” I countered. “That kid was so weird!”
I had no clue why Jessica was being so strange about the objectively hilarious and harmless thing we did in our youth. She then explained that Franklin was not “weird,” but rather suffering from a variety of unseen mental health issues stemming from his parents’ divorce, and the Halloween costume incident precipitated a mental decline that ultimately led him to drop out of school and live with his grandmother months later.
Wait, so I was a bully? But I was literally bullied! And everyone knows two things cannot be true at once.
“We did a really bad thing, and the only thing we can hope for is forgiveness in time,” Jessica continued, clearly not understanding that I’m incapable of being a bully because I’m me.
“Oh, um…yeah, I guess,” I said, extremely flustered by this whole situation.
The hang soon came to an end, but I couldn’t shake the sick feeling in my gut that I had been the villain in someone else’s story. I decided there was only one thing to do: call up Franklin and tearfully say that if he ever told anyone about this, I’d end him.
