I Am

b u l l y

I am b u l l y.

I am less of a concept than my friends i n s e c u r i t y and b u l i m i a n e r v o s a, even less than my friend d e p r e s s i o n.

I am almost an occupation.

And you and I have been co-workers at one point or another.

You may not be me, but I have come to your aid, whether it be through your lips or through your actions.

I'm not a b u l l y you protest, I never have b u l l i e d and I never will.

I scoff at your petty claims.

You have.

Its as simple as that.

You may not work full-time, maybe not even have half days. But you have picked up a job with me here and there, just to pay back your dues, perhaps to get some loose change.

I don't blame you, although your victim might. Its a vicious cycle, my existence, the company that I am the product of.

The entrepreneur who started me is unknown, perhaps we will never be sure, but a little word, a little shove, a little investment, has started a corporation no longer under my control. One thing leads to another as they say, so your small company may just be the extension of an empire.

Even I wouldn't know.

Its beyond me now.

Again you protest, I don't b u l l y.

Think one more time.

Can you deny saying back handed comments, passing whispers, or insulting others?

Only to my friends you say, and its just a joke, they know that.

Do they?

Because some bullets penetrate even the thickest armors.

And some armors are weaker than you think.

And even if the shot is misfired, that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

That doesn't mean you don't slowly bleed out, withering in pain, unable to fight the destruction, whether it be physical or mental.

Some jobs are only fit for the strongest.

And I crack even them.