The Last Bully

Once upon a time so very long ago I was an innocent yet precociously shy all-too-young boy. Cursed by accident of birth to live in miserably intolerable poverty with my single neglectful and psychotically abusive alcoholic-bullying mother. Yes, I was an innocent, but not fully. By that age I had already been through a few horrifyingly traumatic experiences, and didn't emerge from the other side completely unscathed, but I was still a polite and nice boy regardless. An up and coming young future villain perhaps?

Keeping to myself wasn't just a simple habit, but my natural inclination. I absolutely hated violence, already having been a terrified and unwilling witness to the corpse of my beloved guinea pig blown up in my face by young modern-day brigands for their twisted evil amusement.

I had also faced certain death at the hands of a very violent and cold Mother Nature in the form of the deadly blizzard of 77 the previous year. It's hard to keep total innocence when one has heard your very name whispered intimately on the wind by Death himself. Whether young or old, that will certainly change you, as it changed me-and not always for the better.

By the tender age of eight, I knew extreme anger and terror quite well, and violence too, though had committed none myself. At that time I had fallen on the victim side.

But the seeds of rage were certainly there . The things I had been already been through were of such a horribly brutal nature. Even now I wonder, if mankind is the more brutal force, or is it angry Mother Nature that takes the prize for randomly violent behavior?The beginnings of psychotic traits were stirring within me by the time I met my first and last school bully, and possibly a world-ending style rage and potential for extreme violence. All these factors were already present, and just needed time to be painfully nurtured by the darkest circumstances, if such matters could be considered nurturing.

I didn’t start out bad, but I learned too damned soon to adapt to it in kind. Responding perhaps as a tormented animal would react if pushed a bit too far past the fear stage. Never forget, true monsters aren’t born that way, we are created, forged over time in both hate and callousness. Innocence was something I certainly started with, but it rapidly dissolved into something else; A dark attitude far more useful and realistic than mere innocence. A mindset far more adaptable to better deal with the world on its very own evilly-inclined terms. It was first embraced as a mere survival instinct, but evolved into a far more aggressive and violent version eventually. Before I ever came across my one and only bully, I yet possessed some modicum of innocence, but it wasn't destined to last., and would vanish forever sooner than it should have.