Reflections Of A Survivor

Dad and Mom,

Thanks for being there for me.

Reading this brings back recollections of times past when I wanted to "get back" at my tormentors, too. In my case, it never went beyond fantasy daydreams which brought a little satisfaction to heart and mind, and a few moments away from the harsher reality.

But at no time can I recall thinking about killing with my own hands, only sometimes wishing that my tormentors would end their lives at their own hands, maybe by driving too fast in the rain in their muscle cars, or whatever.

If ever I did think about killing my tormentors, I'm certain I quickly dismissed it as a futile act that would effectively end my own life as-I-know-it as surely as a suicide would, because of the punishments that would be imposed upon me by society, as well as the reactions of my few friends and family. Perhaps this is why Harris and Klebold ended their lives in Columbine—they realized they went too far to keep their own lives as they once knew them.

In retrospect, I think it's fair to say that I might never have gotten involved in the railroad spray-painting incidents had I not wanted so desperately to fit in and be part of the crowd. But it wasn't peer pressure from xxx that compelled me to do it, it was the notion that maybe if I did something on the wrong side of the law like so many popular kids, then maybe the popular crowd would accept me, never as one of their own, but just accept me.

Thanks very much for your values, your support, and your love, for they clearly made all the difference in my life then, and today.

Much love,

C--------

P.S. Feel free to share my perspectives as one of those formerly "on the outside looking in." If my words help convince your audience further of what can go wrong with a kind soul, I will have done my part as a survivor of the public school system. But it's only through the grace of God and your love that I didn't become a juvenile crime statistic anymore than I did. We all know how the middle and high school guidance counselors, administrators, and nearly all of my teachers failed to help me. A few teachers offered a sympathetic ear from time to time, but they were largely unable to help me.

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