Don’t Justify Being Bullied As Being Loved
By: Fareeha Arshad
Tags: Bullying, Family, Friendship, Love, Self

“Hi,” I whispered.

I felt dizzy with apprehension. My chest felt more constricted than ever. I fidgeted with my fingers while I looked at the blue shoe on my left leg, missing the silver bow it’s other pair proudly boasted. No matter how hard I tried, I could not meet her eyes.

When I received no response from her, I turned around and looked at my dad, standing further away from the porch. He smiled and showed his right thumb — a small gesture symbolizing that he has my back no matter how bad it goes. Looking at his tough smile, I took a deep breath and felt the knot in my stomach untie a little.

“Why are you here?”

Finally, she said something.

“I am sorry,” I said, this time looking straight in her eyes. It just hurt looking at her green eyes piercing my brown. I waited for the guilt, sadness, anger or any other burdensome emotion that had been gnawing on me for the last six weeks.

At that moment, I felt no other emotion — except intense hurt. I fisted my palm tight, to avoid any catfight to follow. I was never the kind to hit, but at that moment, I was not sure who I was.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “I just wanted to apologize one last time. You should know that you have got it all wrong. I don't want to justify myself for what happened because no matter what I say, you won’t believe me.” I paused. She shifted her weight from one leg to the next when she noted the bloody nail marks on my palm when I opened my fist. I almost thought she would say something. Even if she wanted to say something, her face revealed no emotion.

I felt the resignation in my voice and continued, “Thank you for demeaning me in front of everybody and jumping to conclusions without coming to me first. Thank you for repeatedly believing everybody else but me. Thank you for teaching me that not everybody I am friends with, are friends with me. If anything, you have just lost one of the best people you could ever have in your life.”

I released the breath I held. I wanted to tell her so much more, but words would never do justice to what felt. I continued, “You should also know that I forgive you. But I know that I deserve better.” I wasn't sure who I was reassuring. I said everything exactly how I had memorized — word to word from dad.

However, I didn’t bring myself to utter ‘Goodbye’ — not just yet.

A sense of selfishness temporarily loomed over me. I failed to understand why that feeling washed over me each time I replayed that conversation in my head. I should have felt relieved of letting go of the bully friend who was weighing me down. I should have been satisfied with telling her what I always wanted to say. I should have been fearless because I had my dad standing behind me.

As though hearing my thoughts, I felt a pair of strong, heavy hands on my shoulders.

Dad.

“Let’s go, sweety. Your mum is waiting for us to have lunch together,” he said, pressing my shoulders — letting me know that I did a good job at the confrontation. That little assurance is all I needed to find the courage in me to utter the two-syllable word.

“Good-bye.”

One last time I looked at my friend-turned-bully’s face, searching for my friend of seven years. Nothing showed. Nothing at all. Moments passed by, I felt rejected. Again.

Hearing feet shuffle behind me, I slowly turned around and followed my real best friend back to the black Toyota Camry parked ten feet away. I dragged my feet slower than before, hoping that I would get to hear something from the other end, wishing everything would go back to the way things once were. Seconds turned into minutes, and before I realized I found myself seated inside the car, beside my dad.