Recently, I have found that I have been very disappointed in humanity. I am disappointed with its lack of compassion and sensitivity. People do not seem to think twice about the impact of their actions to others. They do not seem to hesitate when playing with people’s livelihood. This leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth and a troubling feeling in the pit in my stomach. I have not really been able to shake this feeling for about a month now.
Every once in a while, I am reminded of certain unpleasant events in my life. I remember the devastation, the anguish, the feeling of defeat and ridicule. I cannot help but have those feelings resurface sporadically. I guess in retrospect, these events helped define and shape the person that I am today, however, it does not make it any easier when those feelings resurface and I have to relive the series of events in my head.
One memory I would like to forget, unfolded when I was in high school. While I know it was a long time ago, and I often try to convince myself that I am not the same girl, it haunts me to this day. In grade 8, someone had thought they saw a Kleenex fall from my bra and soon after, a rumor spread that I stuffed my bra (which was not true). I received harassment in various forms, the most intrusive being a slew of prank calls leading me to even phone the authorities. I was utterly devastated. It ultimately led me to wear vests and other outerwear which would cover my chest, for pretty much the remainder of high school. During the summer of that year, I remember going over to a friend’s house and reading through her yearbook. On one of the pages was a picture drawn of me with an oversized chest. I remember simply started to weep uncontrollably. The funny thing about this story is that I actually spoke to the girl, who was the artist of this picture, many years later, and she did not even remember drawing it. She even felt bad for making me feel the way that I did. It does however illustrate how people often do not think about how their actions could affect others.
Every once in a while, I am reminded of certain unpleasant events in my life. I remember the devastation, the anguish, the feeling of defeat and ridicule. I cannot help but have those feelings resurface sporadically. I guess in retrospect, these events helped define and shape the person that I am today, however, it does not make it any easier when those feelings resurface and I have to relive the series of events in my head.
One memory I would like to forget, unfolded when I was in high school. While I know it was a long time ago, and I often try to convince myself that I am not the same girl, it haunts me to this day. In grade 8, someone had thought they saw a Kleenex fall from my bra and soon after, a rumor spread that I stuffed my bra (which was not true). I received harassment in various forms, the most intrusive being a slew of prank calls leading me to even phone the authorities. I was utterly devastated. It ultimately led me to wear vests and other outerwear which would cover my chest, for pretty much the remainder of high school. During the summer of that year, I remember going over to a friend’s house and reading through her yearbook. On one of the pages was a picture drawn of me with an oversized chest. I remember simply started to weep uncontrollably. The funny thing about this story is that I actually spoke to the girl, who was the artist of this picture, many years later, and she did not even remember drawing it. She even felt bad for making me feel the way that I did. It does however illustrate how people often do not think about how their actions could affect others.
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