Clump (story)

Yo guys! This was one I’ve been sitting on for a minute and wasn’t fully sure I would share. But it feels right. Know it’s a bit heavier than usual. If you want a dose of hopefulness today, this is not it 😅

Content Warning: Today's newsletter delves into some heavy stuff from my past. It includes mentions of bullying, physical confrontation, a subtle drug addiction reference, and implied child abuse. It's raw and unfiltered.

I’ve mentioned before that a big reason for me coming online was to no longer hide myself, and this and other stories are one way I am opening up to the world. These types of things can’t die in silence, unshared and unspoken.

If you're not in the headspace for this kind of content today, please skip this one. Take care of yourself first.

There was a guy I called Clump.

He was a classic bully and he didn’t like that I stood up to people, namely him. I had stopped him from fucking with people a few times.

One day, I was riding my bike when he pulled up behind me with two henchman.

They surrounded me and formed a triangle with their bikes.

Now—I know this is likely not how I come across online—keep in mind I was a varsity swimmer and Clump is two years younger than me. He may have been a bit meaty, but to me he was kinda pathetic.

It ended poorly for them. They never messed with me again. But this story isn’t about the confrontation.

Clump and I had a complicated history. We didn’t really know each other and just kind of fell into this antagonistic, confrontational relationship. We had many small encounters before.

But I’ll never forget the day after the fight. I remember this vividly because Clump came to school with his face fucked up. But that was not my handiwork. I didn’t do that.

I knew a bit about Clump’s home life, and I know his parents struggled with substance abuse. Which is a nice way to say they were nasty abusive drug addicts. To me, it seemed like they noticed he had been fighting and then beat the shit out of him themselves. I didn’t expect to feel bad for the kid who literally just tried to attack me the day before.

It haunts me. I wanted to hate this stupid motherfucker, but all I could do was see myself in his bruised and bloodied face. We were both just prisoners to something that existed far before us and would exist far after.

And I can’t help but think about how we grew up down the street from each other and could have had very different outcomes in life.

Is he still stuck in that shitty little apartment complex? Is he even alive?

We live in a society the produces bullies and protects no one. Obviously, the bullied are victims. But often the bullies are too and no one helps them either. No one seems to help anyone! So many family systems are as broken and dysfunctional as the rest of our systems. Literally no one cares.

No one cared about me, but I was smart and clever. Clump was many things, but sadly those were not traits he had been well-endowed. If I was a little less shrewd or conniving, I’d probably never have made it out of there. Neither of us had support and the adults in our lives had their own issues or were grossly incompetent.

Due to this, I became good at talking my way out of situations and reading people. It was survival.

America failed us. The school system failed us. Our parents failed us. And our society does nothing to address the root causes of abuse and bullying and family struggles. People just “do their own thing” and it’s their right. It’s how violence gets perpetuated generation after generation and people get stuck in seemingly unbreakable cycles.

I’d love to leave you with a less bleak picture, but there really is no happy takeaway.