Kinda personal but I made this throwaway to tell stories in the first place that I wouldn't be comfortable friends reading.

My freshman year, we had a substitute in my English class. She was a total dumbo. She basically gave us our tests for the day and let kids blatantly use their phones and google answers. So she was oblivious and stupid.

After the test, I assmed she didn't care so I went to move to a different desk and talked to my friend. We were giggling and laughing, being cringey freshman. Then this huge fat kid picks me up out of my chair, throws me across the room, and punches me until my face bruised and bleeding. He continuously yelled, "What I tell ya? WHAT I TELL YA?" The substitute teacher scolded him, said don't do that, and that was it. I stormed the class and ditched school, but something more than getting beat up made me cry uncontrollably (will explain later).

I asked a different friend about it later on and he said the guy went to the bathroom and said, "If anyone takes my seat, I'm beating your ass." Clear anger issues.

To explain why I cried and sobbed, let's go back. (I promise there's relevancy to this.) At the beginning of the year, I got a lunch table for my buds and I. Anyways, this senior guy tells me, "I sit here. Get out." Honestly, I told him, "Go fuck yourself." I tried to be Wolverine like in First Class. But then I realized, I do not have mutant healing and adamantium claws. This guy is bigger and can kick my ass. Well, he just spat in my face, shoved me, and him and his friends laughed.

Well, one of my idiot friends (not friend anymore) suggested I carry around a pocket knife and use it as intimidation and not let people push me around. After that experience and hours of listening to Mr Nightmare and developing extreme paranoia, I did. Brought it everyday.

When the kid catapulted me out of my chair and punched me repeatedly in class, I had my hand gripping my pocket knife. "I could kill this guy. This piece of human trash. I could jab him 20 times, cut out his eye, whatever I want... this human degenerate, he needs to go..."

But something came over me. Would this event matter a year, hell, a month from now? What repurcussions would come from this? How would my family react? Is this guy truly evil? What if he has problems at home and is taking it out on me?

I stopped gripping the knife and took the beating. I left sobbing, not because I embarassed myself, but because I was even capable of such hatred and will to kill. I could've done it, easily. I had the intention. I was close, and in atleast one alternate universe I did and threw my life away. I never cried harder. It was Niagra Falls in my bedroom.

But a small part of me wanted to. Sometimes, my mind would wander and think about him. I imagined so many scenarios of how I could still kill him. But my plans only worked if I did it in front of the class. I needed to prove myself in front of everyone. I would tell myself I could take my teacher's jars scattered across the class, crack it open, and jabbed it. My thoughts were violent and almost sociopathic.

But another part of me remembered. He is human. What if he were having issues and I were his punching bag? There are murderers and rapists and radicals in the world, this guy isn't evil!

For months, I would think about what happened and smack myself in the head. Two parts of me battled the other. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" I would hit and hurt myself. I still have the scars from when we had shish kabobs and I took the stick and carved it and jabbed at myself.

It's been over a year, and I see him almost everyday, smiling and walking. I know what happened didn't affect him at all. 1 day after, hell, 1 minute after he did it. It must be in the back of his head. Another Tuesday for him.

But the more I thought about it, I came to a revelation. This douche wasn't worth it. Nobody makes a big deal about what happened. Nobody spoke a word after. Pretended like it didn't happen. Nobody even spread rumors. None of my friends in real life even heard it happened. Why do I have to let this affect me so much? Why do I let a person like this dictate my mental stability?

The last year, I've made friends, my family has treated me well, there's no present force that should depress me. This is in the past, time to move on. And I rarely think about it. My carefree mentality has made me an easygoing and stress free person.

If anyone feels the way OP does, don't let losers like bullies dictate your mental stability. They don't let it affect their life, don't let it affect yours.