It doesn’t matter how good a person you are or how hard you try to please your teacher’s and follow the rules. Your light they call darkness, your loyalty they call traitorous, your humility they call pride, your love they call hate, your purity, fake, your innocence and kindness deposed as evil. Everyone says you are an amazing person, but behind your back you hear others call you a monster and demon.
You are the demon in white, the one people say has sunshine on their face but hides the smile of a demon. You are the child everyone says has light in their eyes, who runs towards people with flowers in their hands; praying blessings over your enemy right after they have finished beating you.
“I want to be friends with everyone; to make everyone laugh and always protect their smiles… that is my dream… I want to reach them in love. I want to connect with them, but I am not strong enough to forgive on my own. God, help me. I am afraid.
All I wanted was to love everyone. I want to show them the same kindness that you have shown me. But I am afraid that my love is not enough to reach them. Make me a light. Forgive those who do me wrong. Bless them and their family, and their future generations. Love them as you have loved me. Be with them. Grant them safety. Protect them. Give them grace and peace. Amen, amen.”
Your childish voice cries out with a broken voice as you kneel over with folded hands. You tremble and cry from the fear and pain. You walk to your own execution, smiling kindly as your accusers secure the noose over your neck and the teachers secure it tight. You love others even as your bible is stolen from you, dropped on the floor and beaten in retaliation against you.
Why are you praying? They ask you. I was praying for you. You reply to them through blinding tears. And at the end of the day, you always love and forgive those who hurt you, both in school and out. You dare to love your enemies when no one else will; and forgive those who falsely accuse and slander you and unfairly mistreat and punish you.
Despite all my suffering, I had not told a lie and given a false confession to those who had demanded it. I had maintained my innocence before my God and my teacher even though I suffered for it; all because I wouldn’t confess to a crime (offense) I did not commit, though I was being accused of it.
Even when their violence and hatred violates your mind outside school; or in school where their cruelty and accusations violate your morality and threaten to rip your heart apart. You forgive them. Really, the only thing left that you can do is pray for them and smile as the blood of love runs out at the feet of your accusers and torturers.
The reason I use the imagery of blood and death is because it is a symbolism that provokes the strongest imagery I can think of to describe the emotional distress and psychological pain. These situations cut into me and created psychological wounds and emotional bleeding, and every day, my heart still bleeds when I remember these things.
It always seemed to be my fault, even when that wasn’t the case. It didn’t matter how kind or good a person I was, or if I was a loyal student. I was still blamed, even when there were no facts to back the evidence.
I would be falsely accused by the other children of causing trouble, my classmates would get me into trouble with the teacher’s, incurring disciplinary action, sometimes for things I didn’t do, or for things that were greatly exaggerated by the other kids. There was this one time I was actually falsely accused by a bully of being a bully and charged with acting violently towards someone on the bus.
My bus driver, however, rather than asking for my side of the story, or even giving me a chance to defend myself, punished me anyway. It was like this with everyone. My version of the story was never asked for. The teacher’s never even verified if these false accusations were true, and in doing so the victim was never heard.
My accusers always got away, they never once were punished or questioned by the teacher or school officials. What my teachers and bus driver didn’t realize was that I was the real scapegoat, the victim of someone else’s actions. I was never given the chance to speak up for myself, and even if I had, who would have believed me when there were anywhere from two to ten kids accusing me in these incidents?
If you are falsely accused of being a bully, who’s going to believe you when you say you are the one being bullied? No one. Who will speak up for you? Nobody. Who will believe you? No one. Who will even listen to you? Not a single person. It didn’t matter if I could get one person to vouch for me, their testimony was not credible compared to the testimony of two or three other false witnesses.
After a while you start to feel like you are going crazy. You feel like a mad-man being straight jacketed and hauled off to prison, simply for saying something no one else wants to hear. You have no one, you are all alone. All you can do is try to hold it in and not let it get to you.
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