wilwheaton:

wilwheaton:

I was an obnoxious weirdo, because that is who I am in my heart and soul. I’m not cool. I’m not coordinated. I’m not athletic. I’m not confident. I’m none of the things that make it easier to exist in the fucking crucible of a school. And I was bullied for it at all levels, from peers to teachers to my own father, all the way through my entire life until I was old enough to disengage from my bullies. It didn’t help me, it didn’t teach me anything. All it taught me was that the person I was, the weird, awkward, obnoxious little weirdo who loved everyone and everything and just wanted to have friends, and to be good at *anything* my peers cared about, was worthless and worthy of contempt. I was physically and emotionally abused by too many people to count, including people who *absolutely* knew better.

I didn’t learn anything from this except how to most effectively hate myself.

I am *incredibly* lucky that I took a lifetime of bullying and abuse and channeled it into my art, because I had that positive outlet available to me (and I had the support and encouragement of my 7th grade teacher, who knew I wanted to be a writer and supported that). Most people who are bullied and abused for being who they are don’t have the privilege and opportunity that I had, and they don’t deserve to suffer or feel unworthy, simply for being weird and nonconformist.

Bullying is cruel and hurtful and has no place in a family, a school, or anyplace else.

(This was posted in response to a post that claims bullying is “the only way obnoxious weirdos learn how to not be obnoxious weirdos.” I don’t know why the original post disappeared).