I was a bully. There’s no other way to say it. I was the kid who made you scared to hear the recess bell. I was the kid you avoided after school. I was the kid who made you cry to yourself at night after your mom had shut off the light.
It made me feel terrible, especially as I got older.
Every person I encounter I must love and devour. My destruction reaches the most innocent of bystanders before they can realize and run away. I spread myself to touch everything I can’t, everything I shouldn’t, because I’m absent and empty and I’ve never stood in one place long enough to determine where I am.