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Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Karma is my bottom bitch

Before I even realize we welcomed April, May has started.
Getting older surely fast-forwards time, which sometimes is not necessarily a bad thing.
In fact, sometimes I wish time could just go faster. Maybe just a little faster, or much faster.
and by the way, no. I am not writing this post while I'm constipating.
 Well, excuse me. I digress.

I remember the time felt like eternal when I was younger and it was painful.
Probably teenage time passed rather quickly for me because most of the time it felt like my mind was always somewhere else. And anyways I had nothing but time and youth so I wasted stupidly. 

The time that was painful was when I was this small.

This picture was taken at my parents garden. This was probably the first day of my kinder garden, so I was 4. (In Japan, you could start either from 4 or 5 for 3 or 2 years kinder garden until elementary school starts at age 7.)
I am smiling in this picture, and I don't remember about this picture at all, but this little girl didn't realize what kind of nightmare was waiting for her in the kinder garden.
There was a boy in my class whom unfortunately I was stuck with for the whole years which felt literally forever at that time.
He was a little bastard who literally abused me both emotionally and physically.
 Every single day, he would do something and say mean nasty things to make me cry.
Sometimes he'd make me cry twice a day if he felt like. He'd kick me or hit me when I was playing with my friends. I hated that boy. I don't think I hated the school but I remember not wanting to go to school because there would be always that little evil kid.
And I was a weak child so I always was sick and used to go home earlier or rest in the principal's room until my mother came to pick me up. I loved hanging at the principal's room though because I knew I was safe and she always gave me snack and tea. I could draw without getting interrupted by him getting my pencils taken away and read books without him ripping the pages off.

But I think the whole school years were not much fun for me.

Yes, it is sad. Yes, I was sad.
But I hated that I was the victim all the time.
Finally, there was a chance that I had been waiting for for the last few years.
In our last field trip from kinder garden, we went to a park where there was a little pond with cylinder stone slabs you could walk on to cross the pond.
It was a shallow pond, and each of the slabs was about the size of one kid could stand on.
Each of us had to jump to those slabs one to the another and there was many kids on the pond. We all started jumping to these to cross the pond. And I saw other kids almost jumped onto the same slab and about to fall into the pond. They didn't fall, they were laughing but the teachers were scolding at them to watch out.
 Pray the lord. I had an idea.
I started to look for my target. 
There, there he was. The mean little bastard pushing other kids to go faster.
I quietly followed him. Luckily almost the end of the pond, there were many kids trying to finish crossing the pond so I did not get caught by his attention or the teachers.
I jumped onto the slab where he was standing on and as soon as I landed I pushed him, very gently, but surely with as much hatred as I could give.
Before I saw him fell into the water, I jumped onto farther slab.
Then, there was this splash sounds with hysterical scream.
The teacher rushed to pick him up. It was so quick, everything happened in a moment.
Like I said, it was not a deep pond-definitely not as deep as I wished it had been but he got soaking wet from head to toe.
He was taken to the dryer room. Poor little boy, he was crying.
There was no witness, but other boy was supposedly right behind him so he was the first suspect but of course he denied.
Me? No, ma'am. But if I may, for years of torture he had been giving me, I think he deserves a little drowning.
Then about half an hour later, he came back. Completely dried up, with little wrinkly uniform, red eyed. Nothing made me happy, but when I saw his name and class number on his name tag all written in ink got totally blotted, I felt complete satisfaction.
I cannot remember the rest of my kinder garden since. I don't know if he was still picking on me, but his blotted name tag that he had to keep wearing through the rest of the grade made me so happy every time I saw it.
Ever since, I did not cry in front of a boy in my school years. Not once in elementary school.
(I went to female school for mid and high school and learned there was scarier creature than men. Ahem, no offense to my beloved ladies.I consider myself a feminist.)
But anyhow, those years felt so long, and it is truly heartbreaking to see news today that school kids killing themselves.
There is really nothing more hopeless to feel that there is no end.
But there is.
I cannot say my action was right (though I am wrongly proud of myself-if I had had a choice, would I have done it anyway? Oh, fuck yea) but the painful time will pass. Because, the truth is, nothing lasts.
Nothing. There is nothing that lasts forever.
And kids who bully other kids, they should know that they'd better start watching their back-because maybe one day, their back can be pushed. Karma is a bitch.

Now, I am bringing handmade one of a kind happiness to you from NYC~
Pigeon Dynamite is now happily made by

this girl twenty five years later.

Thanks for reading.


Pigeon Dynamiteの幸せになれる一点ものジュエリーは、

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