Probably the reason why we feel repressed and boring is because of this "joking" way, and the classmates who were joked ran through our entire reading career.
When I was in elementary school, there was a tall girl in my class. She didn’t fit in with everyone and didn’t play well with everyone. She seldom talked to make her laugh, and her classmates said she had mental problems and was a boy who wasn’t sensible. They shook her school bag and even rummaged through the table. I always stand in front of her with my hips on my shoulders to protect her, who is several heads taller than me, and pick up the books on the ground for her one by one. At that time, I didn't understand anything. Probably this kind of behavior was branded with heroism in my mind, so I just did it. Later, when my mother was washing her schoolbag, she seriously found a "love letter"—she wrote it to me. I remember that it was a simple piece of paper with crayons on the edge and a few words of thanks. But, that may be the most beautiful love letter I have ever received in my life.
Later, when everyone grew up, when they asked about this person at the reunion of high school graduates and elementary school, some people said that he seemed to have passed away. At that moment, I was in a trance. I was thinking about these people who were laughing very happily under the light. Will they feel a little guilty for bullying this person, whether they are young and ignorant, whether they are intentional or unintentional.
I helped her, and I feel tender just thinking about it.
Sometimes I find my own shadow in the male protagonist.
When I was in junior high school, I had a conflict with a girl who used to play very well. In a class of 30 people, she pulled 15 people away from me. When I graduated from junior high school, I thought triumphantly that these 15 people and even she were not completely far away from me. Most of them boys would pick me out of so many female classmates as a boy to play with, like being kicked by a group of people on all fours, like taking my holster or even taking off my shoes If you don't pay me back, it's like holding me down on the stairs, pulling my hand and pulling me down, maintaining this so-called friendship with such a vulgar "jokes" good attitude. The deadlock that the girl was determined to never talk to me started to break after she took off my holster and ran away. The notebook was thrown downstairs, flying paper, and a jelly box with juice in the pencil case. It appeared again and again, and I don't know how I still listened to her in high school.
I forgot when I found out that I seemed to be bullied for an entire junior high school. During the junior high school reunion, the boy who was headed by him came to me and clinked glasses and said sorry for bullying me that year. The lights were bright, and I turned my head and pretended to talk to the girl next to me.
I don't forgive you, and I don't want to remember you.
It's a pity that I was just a little girl who faced rejection and my mother cried.
There's always a voice in Ben's head, she says, it's time to be yourself.
At the "funeral", the principal said with a heavy face that he had been struggling all his life, not with his own flaws, but with the attitude of others towards him.
The two boys who had been bullying Ben in the audience looked at each other, a little embarrassed.
Until the shameful and even immoral video was released, the crowd began to look around. What are people looking for? Is it the smiling face in the video or the initiator of the whole thing?
The reporters in the last row raised the camera with strong shoulders, probably using the keenness of journalists to smell the benefits behind the incident.
It is not something the police can say with a deadpan expression, "Let this matter be handled by our social service colleagues", nor can it be summed up by a suicide report in less than a minute. It should be as if a murder case was found to be free. A murderous sensation, after all, this life is gone.
Really bitter, news reports really do not distinguish between countries. But is there really only one murderer?
Was he bullied because of his own flaws? So, who of us in this world is complete?
There are too few horses willing to be ridden, and too many people willing to ride, probably because people mistake their own happiness for the happiness of horses.
We may have chosen to die in the same way, but then we discovered how timid it is to die in this world.
The help of the teacher, the broken hearts of the parents, the innocent younger brother, all these will be destroyed together, and Scarlett who is on the road.
Ben, if she's not at home yet, let her come to her heart.
Because we will always be alone, and in loneliness, life depends on self-redemption.
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