Sincerely, The Stranger You Call Sister

Year 1: Making An Ass Of Yourself

"Hello" -Normal speech.

"Hello" -Parseltongue.

'Hello' -Thoughts/Silent telepathic twin-speech.

Hello -Writing.

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Dear Little Brother,

People are little shites. Including kids.

And you'd think that being rich, having a well-known actress as a mother, and normally being a happy, social butterfly would spare you from bullying. That in fact you might be the bully if anything. But it doesn't. Save you from bullying, that is.

I always had been a tall thing. The gap between my peers and I was especially large in elementary, where I was a solid head and a couple inches taller than my classmates.

In short (haha) I stuck out as a sore thumb.

Maybe they were secretly jealous. I don't fucking know, but when I had to change schools back when I was six it seemed like most of my classmates took an instant disliking of me. Specifically, a little bitch named Katie.

And where Katie led, most of the female classmates followed.

Katie and her group often compared me to a weed -seeing as I grew like one- and yeah, it seems like such a lame arse insult now, but as a wee first grader? It fucking hurt.

The movies I watched and the picture books that I had read rarely ever had the leading girl be taller than the boy, and I had never overheard older guys comment how "cute" tall girls were. No, 'cute' and 'pretty' had always been associated more to dainty, shorter girls. And so at that young age I had taken those words, those passing comments, and convinced myself that I wasn't cute or pretty because of my height. That I was ugly.

More so, Katie had taken my abnormal height and -with twisted children logic- had persuaded everyone that I was held back a grade or two, therefore making me stupid. And trying to argue or prove that it wasn't true only made it worse, only backfired in the logistics that "that's what a failure would say."

Most of the teasing had taken place in the playground and otherwise where a teacher wasn't present, where they could outcast me socially by refusing to let me in their friends group without the teacher assigning me somewhere. Maybe the teachers could have helped me if I told them -I can't remember if they were simply oblivious or honestly didn't give a fuck- but I never did for two reasons:

1) I was ashamed. I liked watching movies and shows where the characters went on grand adventures, where they were all so brave and saved the day. And going to school with Katie, under my classmates' hateful eyes and dismissive gestures, I didn't feel brave at all. Cowardliness and shame for my behaviour sank its claws into me, squeezed my heart tight, and I was utterly helpless to it.

2) Jamie, the little snot-nosed little shite that greatly enjoyed pulling pants down and flipping girl's skirts. Maybe his parents were friends with the principle or something, but either way whenever he did anything wrong, no matter how many times or severe, he only ever got a slap on the wrist. A ten minute time out at worst, and being held back from a recess at best. And the fact that his other male friends also thought it fucking hilarious and encouraged him -loudly- with every knicker flashed didn't help either. And because of my easily spotted height, and the other girls' disdain for me, I was an easy target and therefore the most frequent victim.

I saw how the teachers dealt with -or, really didn't deal with- Jamie, and that was the final nail in the coffin so to speak.

My family moved again after second grade, and I never got bullied again like that in my new school, but by then the damage had already been done. It took me a couple more years to stop getting hurt and angry when people commented on my height, and until the early years of middle school to truly consider myself pretty, and not privately counter any compliments on my looks. (In actuality high school had boosted my self-esteem to newfound heights, but I digress.)