Musings of a dumb bitch

Why do I care so much?

Fun story. Today I nearly cried because the girl handing out the books in English told me to put my name on my book next time.
"You should really put your name on the book next time" she sighed, smirking to her friends, her voice dripping in apathy.
Yeah.
On the surface that seems ridiculous and it is. But peel away the surface and the context explains a bit.
The girl who did this made fun of me relentlessly for a year along with her friends. This year they collectively decided that my entertainment level had depleted and I was no longer worth their precious time. Not to say I'm never graced with their attributes but it's no longer a daily occurrence.
So why did I start to sob?
Well, part if me was so scared of being in the same situation as last year again I went into a fight or flight mode. Imagining there was a third option of sob pathetically in the face of a threat.
Either way, the sheer terror of the prospect of hiding in toilets, taking absurdly long routes to class, being afraid to exist in the company of this girl and co.
I couldn't handle it.
It's not the first time this has happened, little off the cuff remarks can send me into a week long spiral of turmoil. And this is my question, why do I care so much?
One factor is definitely fear as I have just explained which is probably the most rational part of this all. But there is another. Self respect.
Bear with me here.
Last year I was not just a sad and pathetic person, no I also became a very angry person. The frustration at my inability to do anything in the situation built in me like a ticking time bomb. It would explode at any time hurting those close to me. This is where my problem was, if I was treating others poorly (regardless of the reason) how was I any better than those who harassed me in the hallways?
They had their own reasons for doing it to me, shallow or otherwise.
So how could I hold their actions against them if I was no better. In that sense did I deserve it. Not necessarily.
If we were no better than each other then no sense of justice could be achieved. Only an endless cycle of anger, humiliation and sadness with no foreseeable ending.
There could be no moral high ground in that situation due to my inability to stay calm and neutral. So any sense of suffering I had was self inflicted and I would proceed to punish myself. Purposeful isolation, starvation, cutting you name it!! Roll up! Roll up! I got the full set of self punishment! Limited offer while stocks last!

So I spent a year in limbo. Not hell, not purgatory. No, just in the infinite mass of my own turmoil with daily harassment from the "alphas" of my school food chain.
And one day it hit me. They don't care.
Not that they were oblivious to the pain I was in as a partial consequence of them. A fucking pebble could've told you as much. But the thing is it didn't matter because it had no consequence. The furthest I got to retaliation was calling the ringleader a cunt. So they could continue bombarding me with mockery, free from consequence. Only the consequence of a good time. When they went home I likely ceased to exist  whilst they stalked my every thought and action. They had no reason to care or try and know if I was okay.
I wasn't okay, of course I wasn't okay. However, any inkling that their actions may have had a negative impact could be dashed by the easy label of "oh she's such an emo".
Like putting a plaster on internal bleeding. Not much help but it looks better from a distance.

So that's why the tears came. Fear and knowledge that any pain I might endure was as much by my own hand and there was no consequence or "justice". No escape.
"But like that just how she is you know. She makes jokes about everyone. I don't get the big deal". That's what my friend said when I told why I was upset. And she's right it's not a big deal. It was an offhand comment about a mundane blip in the routine of handing out books.
I shouldn't care because nobody else does. But I do.