Death and The Bullies
Death seems to be surrounding us. Every day someone dies, and the small box on the wall is all to eager to announce the losses. When did life become so cruel? Why is life so cruel? People kill each other, people die from cancer, accidents, mistakes, or people die from cruelty. A slow death lingering within the living cells of the breathing human. Our government has become a playground filled with bullies. Our leader boasts like a teenaged boy that John McCain isn’t a “Hero.” His opponent, such a threat that he dishonors a man held against his will for five-years. I have tried to imagine what it would be like to endure torture for five years, to be placed in a small space, so small that I could not stand up. To be forced to remain crouched like a fetus snuggled in a womb without stretching my legs. What has happened to empathy, compassion, and human kindness? I would like to ask our leader these questions. What kind of role model is our president?
Life is so short, so delicate, and so vulnerable to everyday threats. At any moment, life can be cut short, at any moment!!! What we say, without a filter, is hurtful, and cannot be taken back. How we judge one another is only because of fear, low self esteem, or just meanness. Bullies come in all forms, don’t they? Children and adults; no age restrictions. I was bullied as a child, and as an adult. Those lashings, stung to the bone, busied my brain and derailed who I am. Suicide was an option, but, that would only hurt those I loved, and I loved them more than myself. Suffering in a life where one has the power to inject others with lies is like being imprisoned, confined to a small space, so small that you cannot stand up. Being bullied reduces ones self to the height that belittlement dictates. It takes a truly strong and confident person to survive torture, bullying, and belittlement. Those who inflict someone with their whip, and two sided face, should feel a sense of remorse, of shame. To hurt someone else in order to boost his or her own ego or self image is weakness, of the lowest kind. Bullying hurts, it takes on a form of cancer. It spreads like a disease, penetrating everyone in its path. It kills love, safety, and trust.
Fredericksburg, VA. For Rhonda writing about daily life, personal experiences, and the experiences of others has become a life long process. Writing is a passion, and continues to be a practice of letting go and writing more openly and freely; to express and relay experiences in a way that others can understand. I have had the privilege of learning and growing in my writing through Valley Haggard’s writing classes. Through her classes, and over years, the walls have come down. I hope to continue to reflect, and feel inspired by those around me.