Now let me just clarify something before I go on, all these kids where half my age at the most and no where near my size. Not meaning to toot my own testosterone fuelled horn but I probably could've knocked at least one light out, or at the very least try to menaced them enough to take pity and not cut off my hair. It's this that makes it so interesting. I didn't move a muscle, literally I was shaking in my boots. This is of course because I'm a huge pansy who spends his time writing how his day went on his blog but we'll discuss that some other time. I eventually managed to find the connection between my intuition and my brain and got off the bus, but as I was walking home I was wondering why I was so scared of a bunch of mouthy spineless kids. was it their sheer lack of care for the world around them? Their huge intimidating numbers? Their brutality coupled with disturbing organisation? No. I think I've cracked it. All these things were a factor but they all contributed towards one thing: memories of the same people bullying you for fun.
I'm not gonna lie here, I was bullied quite badly in fact, mostly because I didn't have the nerve to fight back, but so were a lot of the most respectable people I know. I bet you reading this now experienced the sorrowful sting of being bullied at least once. The only people I can think of who didn't get a bit of the bully treatment are massive dick heads who actually thought school wasn't all that bad and should stop reading right now and never again dirty these pages with their perfect lives, or bullies themselves who're either out making wrong choices or dead because I went mad after writing this thinking about the dark nostalgia and decided to go and rip their jacks. It is a trial of life that happens all the time, but to this day I still think it was at it's fullest during secondary school. Back then kids were at their smartest, and with smarts comes cruelty and organisation, one of the most potent combinations known to man. I can clearly remember the production of separate gangs, sometimes advancing to territories, but where have we heard all this before? well my friend just look at the title. Schooling before collage had all the variables of a mob rule society.
The thing is statistically the crime society in secondary school was worse than that of modern day society. Sure you can die in the modern crime scene but think about it. If someone breaks the law, you can tell the police, they don't give out your name, person goes to prison, problem solved. If a kid in school breaks one of the rules you could tell, but they will always say "so and so said that you were doing x." They will at the most be set the highest punishment bellow expulsion (ours being you spend a day doing work in the Discipline For Learning room), then the next day they can find you and return the favour. The payback is the best comparison to make here, remember what I said about cruelty with organisation? Well one such product of this pairing is imagination. Girls can think up unusual but somehow plausible rumours about you, boys can steal and hide your things in some of the most unthinkable places. Hell one of my old friends got stabbed walking down her drive by what is essentially a hired gun. If the gang leaders are the dons, then the teachers are the failed police force. I already mentioned their lack of subtlety, but no matter how much they can "talk" to the offenders, they never ever improve the situation. It seems to slip past them that most of these horrible kids do not care about a thing they do, and any solution that would make them care is either non-existant or illegal. Its a fully fledged down trodden society.
I am of course not forgetting that bullying is part of society itself. If my friends owe me money I have to BULLY them into paying me back. When I did music tech last year I had to BULLY my session musicians into choosing a suitable recording date. All those mob rule days were designed to toughen us up for reality and prepare us to face the real bullies of society and fight back with pride and honour. So back the question at hand, why was I so afraid to fight back on the bus? It seems a flaw has been discovered in this "rough childhood" system of rehabilitation, that being reminded of those dark days makes us cower in fear of the big tough buggers that pushed us around for lolz. Try it some time, get on a bus stocked full of propa bad bois, sit right at the back in the middle of their cabal and see how you feel. I imagine a fair bit less wimpy than me and my girly hair but see of you get that painful reminder of how vulnerable you were back then compared to now.