"Hey guys, let’s head to the activity center! Ma'am’s class is still a long way off," my friend announced, her voice lively as usual.
She was the one I always spent lunch with, and she had a way of making everything sound like a mini-adventure.
We exchanged quick glances, and before we knew it, we were all nodding in agreement, already on our way out of the little carinderia we loved.
It was small, nothing fancy, but the food was affordable and the vibes were always light.
We’d need to walk a good five minutes to get back inside the university gates, but none of us minded.
As we strolled, the usual wave of laughter washed over us, jokes flying left and right.
I couldn’t help but join in, leading the way with my signature teasing, the one thing I was known for.
In school, I felt like a different person—more lively, more carefree.
Here, it was easier to put on that mask of laughter, to let everyone think that I was perfectly fine.
They often teased me about it too.
"Don’t you ever feel sad? You’re always cracking jokes!"
I just smile at them, keeping my real thoughts to myself.
I don’t like sharing my problems, especially not about my mental health. I’ve always believed, I’m the one who will fix myself, not anyone else.
As we reached the activity center, the familiar chaos welcomed us.
Students were scattered everywhere, filling the space with noise and chatter.
It was hot, crowded, and a bit overwhelming, but this was our usual hangout spot, so we settled in like we always did.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through random apps just to pass the time.
That’s when I noticed them—this group of boys sitting across from us.
Their loud laughter pulled my attention away from my phone.
At first, I ignored it, thinking it was just harmless fun, but then something made me look again.
One of the boys was holding his phone up, clearly taking a picture or video of someone.
My eyes followed his camera’s line of sight and landed on a boy sitting near us, completely unaware.
He was hunched over his notebook, lost in his own world, reviewing his notes.
It was subtle at first, but I noticed the shift in the air when the boy realized he was being watched.
His body tensed.
I could see the discomfort in the way he hesitated before slowly standing up.
Without a word, he gathered his things and walked away, trying to disappear from the scene.
The group of boys erupted in even louder laughter, their eyes glued to their phones as if the moment was just another source of entertainment for them.
And that’s when it hit me—this isn’t just a joke.
My chest tightened with anger.
Were they really bullying him? Here? In college?
I shot a glare at the guy who was holding the phone.
He must have felt it because he quickly dropped his smile, his laughter dying in his throat.
His friends continued to laugh, but the way he suddenly went quiet showed he knew what he had done.
I didn’t need to say anything.
The message was clear in the way I looked at him.
Do you really think that is okay?
Do you think that is funny?
He quickly averted his eyes, the guilt creeping onto his face.
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my anger in check.
Lord, grant me patience, I thought to myself, feeling the heat rising in my chest.
It took everything in me not to stand up and confront them.
Part of me wanted to scream at them, to call them out for their immaturity.
But I held back.
Not because they didn’t deserve it, but because I knew that sometimes silence speaks louder than words.
Still, I couldn’t shake the thought—why does this kind of thing still happen in college?
I used to think that as we got older, we’d leave the childish cruelty behind.
But here it was, right in front of me, like some ugly ghost from the past that refuses to be forgotten.
The arrogance of thinking you’re better than someone else, that you can humiliate them for your own amusement—it disgusted me.
As I sat there, I couldn’t help but wonder about the boy who walked away.
What was he feeling?
Did he feel embarrassed?
Angry?
Or maybe he was used to it, used to being the target of other people’s jokes.
My heart ached for him, and at the same time, my blood boiled at the injustice of it all.
These boys, sitting there, laughing as if nothing had happened—what made them think they had the right to do that?
Did they think that just because they were popular or surrounded by friends, they were untouchable?
I hoped, deep down, that one day they would realize that this wasn’t the way to live. That their actions had consequences.
Just because you think you’re better than someone, doesn’t give you the right to tear them down.
We’re all flawed, we all have our struggles, and it’s those imperfections that should teach us to be kind, to show empathy, not cruelty.
I looked around the activity center, the chatter of students continuing as if nothing had happened.
Life moves on so quickly, and sometimes, the worst parts of it go unnoticed, swallowed by the noise.
But I saw it, and I would remember.
Not just for the boy who walked away in silence, but for everyone who’s ever been on the receiving end of cruelty.
Maybe that’s why I couldn’t just laugh my problems away.
Maybe that’s why I hold back.
Because in a world where people tear each other down so easily, I wanted to be the kind of person who held things together, even when it hurt.
YOU ARE READING
POV
Non-FictionLife often presents itself as a series of hurdles, each one taller than the last. These hurdles, though daunting, are not meant to break us but to shape us into who we are meant to be. It is through our darkest nights that we gain the strength to fa...
