Short Essay | In That Classroom, No One Called My Name | The Experience of Rising from Failure

To those currently in the midst of "bullying."
And also to those who have known that pain in the past—.
Please, give me a little bit of your time.

This is a slightly realistic, yet short-essay style account of the events surrounding "bullying" that I personally experienced.

To those who have kept their hearts closed off, and to those who cannot raise their voices right now.
Perhaps, I might be able to gently draw close to some part of your heart.

"The things you can't tell anyone are exactly what become a little easier to bear when you put them into words."

I wrote this with that thought in mind.
I would be happy if you could read it.

■ To the me of that time, who was quietly hurting

Since I was small, I was an inconspicuous child.
I was quiet, not good at joining circles of people, and I almost never played with anyone after school.

But, somehow, I thought that was just who I was.
It was lonely, but I couldn't do anything about it.

■ Crumbling without a sound in the corner of the classroom

After entering junior high school, my time began to grow murky little by little.
Being ignored. Cold stares. Mean words said just loud enough for me to hear.

"Why me?"

I thought that, but there was also a part of me that felt, "Maybe I have some fault in this too."

That's why I couldn't tell anyone.
I couldn't ask for help either.

I only learned how to smile well so that no one would notice.

I was afraid of the morning coming, and depressed that the night was ending.
Days where my name wasn't called piled up.

■ High school life as a turning point

"If things stay like this, surely nothing will change."
Thinking that, I chose a school in the next town that I could commute to by train, rather than my local high school.

The uniform is different.
The route to school is different.
There isn't a single person I know.

That was, at once, a source of fear and a small freedom.

■ The moment I made "friends" for the first time

I tried changing myself, just a little bit.
I tried greeting people with a smile.
I tried talking to people during breaks.

Rather than creating a "persona," I tried getting closer to the "self I want to be."

Strangely enough,
there was no one there who would pry into the past.

“The me of now”,
the number of people who would accept me just as I am
gradually increased.

A day where my name is called.
I never knew
that it could warm my heart so much.

■ A connection I finally found, which still continues today

I am still connected
to the friends I met at that high school.

We have become working adults,
and though we have become busy with work and family,
we still gather occasionally to laugh together.

The realization that "there is a version of me that can change"
is what supports me now.

I want to tell the me from back then:
You can change.
The world is not just one thing.

■ For you, when was the "moment you changed yourself"?

Even just one step is fine.
Even a small choice is fine.

If you have ever wished
in the depths of your heart that you "want to change",
that feeling is surely real.

Where was your "moment of change"?
If you'd like, please let me know in the comments.

■ Afterword

I never thought I would write this article as an adult. But I believe that it is precisely because of that painful experience that I am who I am today.

Through this experience,I want to be useful to someone.
And perhaps the desire to keep writing words that can provide comfort has become my driving force.

It would be my greatest pleasure if this was of even the slightest help to you.

Thank you for reading until the end.
If you liked it, please give it a like and follow me.