I am a bully. It’s gross, and it happens without me really noticing. I am very judgemental. Poor Jacob has to hear what I think about your Facebook post, or how very obvious it is that your recently uploaded photo is to show off your tits (good job, you have boobs, move on please). I don’t mean to be that way, and I think it’s important for women to support each other, and I will. If you get a new job that you love I will be overjoyed for you. Or you start going to college or university, that’s awesome! You got a car, you’re having a baby, you got engaged, you’re going on a mission trip or to a concert or you and your parents are finally getting along; you bet your ass I’m going to be proud of you. But don’t expect positive feedback for your pot-smoking, partying and sexual display of yourself. No thanks.

But Eva, if you know what you’re doing is wrong, why don’t you change? That’s a good question dear reader. Well, when I catch myself I do make a point to stop. But I’ve been conditioned to be this way. I’m told how your conditioned is not a true reflection of who you are, it’s noticing your flaw and making a point to change it is who you really are. I remember in grade seven or eight, our class was lined up for PE class. I was wearing baggy camo capris, skater-boy shoes and a T-shirt. (Obviously not proper gym attire but my parents didn’t buy fitness clothes.) There was a “popular” girl a little ahead or behind me in line, I don’t remember, but she was dressed very similarly to me. (How did I know she was popular? She had all the twilight books, that demanded social status.) Someone had pointed out that she and I were similarly dressed, as she was also wearing camo capris and skater-boy shoes; to which she responded something to the effect of, “Thank you, now I have to burn this outfit”.

But I’m getting better, even before I realised I was a bully. In grade 11 or 12 I was sitting in a computer class with two other girls who didn’t really like me. One of the girls was dating a boy I had been seeing sometime before; she and her friend were laughing, saying the only thing I was good at was giving blowjobs (see, again, I don’t know why my sex life was their business). I thought about saying, “So you and your boyfriend are talking about exes?”, but I didn’t. I regret it sometimes. One of these girls has gone on to start a family and the other to nursing school. That’s beautiful, and I’m glad they’re doing things that make them happy.

Am I hypocritical? Maybe… most certainly. But I am also human. I am a messy, foul mouthed human who is working hard to not let these other mean, messy humans shape her future. I don’t think anyone else should have that kind of power over your life. And maybe these people who made my life difficult are now also trying to make themselves better people, and maybe they’re not; and maybe they were never terrible people, just misunderstood. I don’t care. It’s not my problem. My life is my concern, not what’s going on in my bully’s life, and not what people feel like they want to post to social media. Right now, the only thing I can do it make sure I am continuing to try and become a better person, for me.

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