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The child

I don't what his name is, or what his side of the story is, I just know what I see. I ride a bus to and from school every morning and night with this boy, observing. He is a child who could be no older then eleven, on the chubby side, it's long greasy hair. He is a silent child, sitting as close to the window of the bus as he could, having a sad frown on his face. He goes through life unseen by those he wants to see him and seen by those wish not to see. Two boys that appear to be a few years older the. This boy, notice him, and that is what he dreads. They notice the way he huffs and puffs running down his large hill trying to catch the bus. They observe the way he doesn't talk to anyone and sits In the corner of the bus, greasy hair falling in his face. They observe the way he looks at this young girl with pigtails getting on and off the bus. These boys are what your average school would put away into the box titled cool, where as the boy was cut up and put into multiple boxes. Weird, shy, nerd, dork, geek, hippy, fat, ugly, worst of all, Mexican. These boys called him all of these names day after day, getting kicks out of his pain, thinking its funny, feeling superior to the boy they are calling names. Now the boy sits in his corner listening to the names being thrown his way, but while he sits there, a ball of fury, anger, resentment started to grow deep inside himself. As he sat there day after day the ball grew and grew till it took over his soul and his very being. This sweet little boy that I watched get harassed day by day, turned into an angry little boy, and did what others did to him, he picked on the weaker smaller children, starting with the two that planted the seed of fury. He abused others with words and the hands that god gave us not go hitting, but to working, he abused others and in the process he abused himself. Every time a child he would hurt, a part of his soul would withered a die. This little boy who hurt others will one day grow up old and angry at the world for what he has done and what has been done to him. I sat in the back and watched as this boy slowly started to fade from who he really is and I wonder, are we all like that? Or are we all going to become like that? If people keep on abusing on another will we all slowly start to leave who we were behind and become someone we won't recognize? It may seem like a joke at the time, but is it a joke to the other party member? I wonder if things would be different for the boy if I helped him out instead of writing about it, I wonder if he would still be the sweet little child that he was once been. Bulling hurts not only others, but yourself. Next time you see that mid with a funny nose, or large eyes, a rounded body or even one zit, look at their personality, leave their looks alone, they we already know our flaws. Why do you have to show it to our faces for everyone to look there also.



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