Weak

Why would you be mean ?

I’ve talked to you a few times, friend of my friend. I was trying to study, in that little corner of the room, trying to focus on what I was doing, trying to ignore the noise.

Then, suddenly, the noise was unbearable. You came in, and you started to talk. Were you really talking, actually ? Do you call talking mocking and humiliating people ?

Anyways. You came over. You started being threatening. Towards me and my blue-haired friend. You made fun of us and our political views.

We were sat, and you were standing there, with your voice full of despise and your judgemental eyes, staring at us and at our most vivid weaknesses.

I smiled. Weak. I smiled like I was weak. Like I was feeling uncomfortable, which I clearly was. I just wanted you gone, you and your cruel tone.

But you were there, scary blonde figure that I used to consider cheerful. Insulting us. Acting like a friend, but deliberately mocking us.

 

I don’t know what to think. I wish I was stronger. Not much, just enough to stand up and tell you what I think. Tell you you’re an intolerant person, with a dictator’s spirit. You might not like my beliefs, you might not appreciate my values. But mine, at least, don’t include acting like a bully. I do not trouble my day humiliating people, telling them they are no good when I barely know them and I’m in no place to judge.

If those are your values, you should be ashamed. I would, if I were you. Sometimes I wish people could see how miserable they truly are, but then, I try to be a kind person, and I believe everyone fights its own battle, one we, other people, know nothing about. After all, we’re all humans.

Still, I don’t know if you measure the impact your words can have on someone. I spent my day thinking about how scary you were, how powerless I felt.

I wish I had stood up. But I know, deep inside, that I’m just a weak lost soul. Mainly weak though.

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