Bus Ride by Timmy

This is part two of a special two part post on Love Bytes Reviews

Acedia and the Dangers of Apathy and Willful Ignorance

I’m really scared today, it’s been a long day already and it just turned 7am. I had to wake and deal with a family that doesn’t understand me. They say they do, and they say they will protect me, but they look at me different then the they do each other. They send me off into the world that doesn’t understand me. As I wait by my bus stop, my stomach ties itself into knots. I know what is coming, and I can see it in my mind. I daydream about the quietness of my room, and the safety I find there. I try to imagine that I’m still warm and safe in my bed, but it doesn’t work. I know that the minute that bus stops, I will be entering their world. I watch the bus coming up the street and steel myself for what is to come. As the bus stop grows busier I hide behind a tree. It’s not hard for me to hide, because I’m small and easily overlooked. 

When the bus stops I see all the kids running to get the good seats, which is easy because we are only the second stop. That means I have 12 more stops to sit through and 45 more minutes before I get to school. Most kids would think that was great. They have 45 minutes to hang out with their friends, but I don’t have friends. I have no one who will understand me and help me. As I enter the bus, I make eye contact with the driver. He gives me a little sneer and tells me to hurry up and be seated already. I immediately look down and try to hurry out of his sight. I have no ally there either. 

Because I am still looking at the floor, I see the foot that pops out. I wish I wasn’t hustling, because I can’t slow down in enough time to miss the foot. As I fall to the dirty wet aisle floor, I hear the laughing and insults they fling at me. I bite back my scream and tears. I work hard trying to get up in the small space, all the while wishing it hadn’t rained today. Now, I will have mud stains on the front of my clothes all day. 

I’m feeling lucky today, because there is an empty seat close to the front. Though the driver never helps me, at least the kids don’t hurt me as much if I’m in the front. Just as I begin to sit the driver hits the brakes hard, and I go flying across my seat and face-first into the window. “Retard!” I hear from more than one of the kids on the bus. It’s okay, I can handle this, I tell myself. Around this time the whispers start. I hear almost all of it because they don’t even try to whisper quietly. 

“He can’t understand, because he’s a retard.”

“What a stupid little kid! I don’t know why his parents keep him!” 

“I know his brother, he is nothing like it.”

“OMG! I think he touched me when he walked by! I hope I can’t catch what he has.”

It goes on and on, kids talking about me, like I can’t hear them. It hurts. There is this deep loneliness and sadness that I can’t make go away. Ever. I think about what they are saying and wonder why my parents keep someone like me around. I don’t even want to be around me. I disgust myself. I think if they were to send me away, I would understand. I feel sorry that I disgrace them like I do. I promise myself that I will try harder and work harder to be normal. 

At the 5th stop, my stomach clenches, because that means it’s Chris's stop. At the beginning of the school year Chris told me we could be friends. I was so proud of myself! I had a friend! It was the best thing that happened to me in my whole life! I wrote notes to him, and he talked to me. I thought he really understood me. We were going to be best friends forever! Then the real world caught up to me and showed me what friends did to each other. Chris had used all the notes and letters I wrote him and made a small crude looking book. He had pasted them all on papers and stapled them together. I guess he made copies because there were about 50 of these books going around school. He named the book, A Day in the Life of a Mute Retarded Gay Boy. There it was for everyone to see, in my own handwriting. They all knew I not only couldn’t talk, but that I was gay.

For some reason that I can’t fathom, the fact that I have a speech impediment meant I was also retarded. I believed this for many years, until one day I decided to look up the word. And this is what I found. 

Definition of RETARDED: 

slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development or academic progress

re·tard·ed

adjective \ri-ˈtärd-əd\ (Medical Dictionary)

Medical Definition of RETARDED

sometimes offensive : slow or limited in intellectual or emotional development : characterized by mental retardation

That did not resemble me or the problems I had but everyone, including my family, has told me that, yes, I am a retard. So I go with it. Who am I to argue? Besides I see kids calling other kids “retard” all the time. So, maybe it wasn’t a bad name? I tell myself this, but it still hurts when they say it to me. 

Anyway, it was Chris's stop and, any minute, I will be in my personal hell. I see his red hat first as he climbs the stairs. I loved that red hat. It used to be mine. It was the only gift I ever remembered getting from my dad. Chris took it about a week after his book went around school. I was so upset, I cried for hours that night. I still feel something crushing my heart when I see him wearing it. I thought I loved him. He was my hero. My first crush and my best and only friend. He knew how precious that hat was to me. Well, now the whole school knew it as well. It is a big joke and everyone laughs when they see him wearing my hat. And just like a rehearsed chorus, all the kids on the bus start laughing. I feel the tears beading up in my eyes, and quickly look down at my folded hands in my lap. 

I swallow back the vomit rising in my throat, when I feel his arm come around my shoulder. He knows I can’t handle being touched. He does this to see if he can make me vomit today, as I have in the past. I wish I had the nerve to vomit on him, but he warned me what would happen if I did that. Not to mention, the bus driver who allowed this to continue always made me clean up my vomit. So, I was humiliated for being bullied.

At this time we have 28 minutes left on the bus. By the time I had made it to school, I was numb. I moved on autopilot and had turned my brain and emotions off to protect myself. I’m assuming this is where people get the impression that I am retarded in some way, but what I’m really doing is trying to survive. And now the easiest part of the day is done and it’s time for the real hard stuff, I must live through another day at school.

I want you to do something for me. I want you to go back and read this again. Only, this time, I want you to use yourself as the “I” in this story. Then think hard of all the times that you were one of those people laughing and calling names. Most people won’t admit to being one of them, but at some time during your life, you will have laughed, sneered, or made someone less fortunate than you feel low. Just because they can’t speak for themselves (for whatever reasons) doesn’t mean that they can’t be hurt.

The moral of this story: Kids are mean, and they grow up to teach their kids to be mean. If any of the kids on this bus stood up to these bullies, maybe I wouldn’t have spent hours thinking that ending my life would be better than going to school the next day. Teach your kids not to hurt others. Explain to them what the words they say mean. It may be “just a joke” to them, but it is a hurtful thing to the people who feel that the words represent what they really are. Tell them that laughing at what the bullies do only encourages them to continue and do worse. HELP the kids like me by teaching your kids about people with differences. Talk to their teachers and find out if they are bullies. Take the time to get to know the kids they hang out with. KNOW what your child is up to in school. This is one of my true stories. Thanks for reading it. ~Timmy

Special thanks to Billy Gilman and Rictor Riolo for retweeting this post!

NEWS FLASH!!!

This story inspired Liliana Li's artwork for the You Will Rise Project and a "Stop the Bullying" meme for Unity Against Bullying Day created by Timmy from Anna Lund's artwork. This meme took on a life of its own on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Pinterest and became the profile picture for many. Take a look at the wonderful merchandise you can purchase to support the You Will Rise Project and join us in our fight to stop bullying.

               

All content ©2014 Timmy Ashton. All Rights Reserved. We hold no interest in or claim to the copyright(s) for  You Will Rise Project or Unity Against Bullying Day