You know the expression “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me?” Well, that’s a load of BULLSHIT.
It happened forty-five years ago. I was 14, and it was my first year of high school. Now while I wasn’t the most social kid on the planet, I was naturally tall and a damn good athlete, and I pretty quickly fell into the “Popular kid” clique. Anyhow, as most popular groups do, we were assholes to all the other kids. We specialized in lunch money shakedowns. To be honest? I loved it. It felt good to be the muscle of a group, a silent enforcer. Sick. I know. But I got what I deserved. We all did.
It was a Friday, and we were all in particularly good spirits. We’d already shaken down 3 kids, made about a dollar, and split it (unevenly) around the group. Because I wasn’t conisdered very important, I only got 4 cents out of it. Eh. I wasn’t in it for the money anyway. It was all going well, but Spencer just had to ruin it… Spencer was probably the most unconventional popular kid, because he was short, and also pretty skinny. But for what he lacked for in appearance, he made up for in personality. He had the largest ego of anyone I ever knew, but he had such a vicious and unforgiving personality to protect it. But, as he would soon come to learn, under the sturdy wall of his cunning attitude, his ego was quite fragile.
“C’mon guys! We can do better than a dollar!”
I frowned a little. While I didn’t mind doing what I did, he said “We” like he was actually helping us do the shakedowns at all. But the rest of the kids agreed with him , so I got up and followed. We found a target pretty quickly. Poor lookin’ nerd with a set of notable buckteeth sitting all by himself. Almost stereotypical with how cliche the sight was. As always, I approached the kid in front, with the rest following close behind.
“Hey kid!” I barked. “You know the drill.” Usually, people would just give up before any altercation even started, benefiting both sides. The kid just stared at me. Spencer, angered by the obvious resistance, stepped in front of me and said
“Well, you heard him! Fork it over!”
But the kid did not yield.
“Why should I?”
Spencer’s face turned red, and I balled my fists.
“BECAUSE I SAID SO, YOU GOOD FOR NOTHING BUCKTOOTHED-BITCH!”
As if on cue, we all became Spencer’s own personal laugh track, really trying to drive in the demoralizing insult, hoping he would finally give in. But the kid didn’t even seem phased. In fact he seemed… amused. As if he was expecting something more.
“I can do better than that.”
Spencer laughed at him.
“You probably can’t even insult yourself- and trust me, it’s easy.”
And then that son of a bitch spoke. He spoke for a good 5 minutes, and we were completely mezmerized by the absolutely brutal string of insults he unleashed at Spencer. He even insulted some personal things that he had no way of knowing about Spencer. Now, it was brutal alright, but it was something I thought Spencer would recover from. But he didn’t. It didn’t hit me how personal the kid’s insults were until it was too late. This was a different breed of insults altogether- when you hear them from an onlooker’s perspective, they sound savage. But when you’re the one being insulted- it’s a million times worse.
By the time the kid closed his mouth, Spencer was frozen. Completely unmoving. It was like his brain was experiencing a processor overload trying to understand the unholy slew of words that had just been shot at it. And then he began to sob. Massive, racking sobs. He unleashed guttural screams and even began to vomit, all while sobbing so hard that it looked like he was going to Dehydrate. A few snickers went around the crowd. After this display, Spencer’s reputation was ruined. He’d be kicked out of the popular group and end up leading an ironically similar social life to the kid that did it to him. But the laughing stopped abruptly at the first slam. Spencer had stopped flopping around the floor in a puddle of tears and vomit, but instead started slamming his head against the ground.
With each slam followed a sickening CRACK, as blood joined the puddle of liquids under him. Meanwhile, he was using one hand to gouge his own eyes out and another to punch himself as hard as he could. It was like every second he spent alive was nothing but pure agony, and that he was trying to die as fast as possible. The nerdy kid simply looked down at Spencer’s pathetic dying form, and said, with a hint of regret,
“I told you so.”
While the kid seemed to feel kinda bad about what he did, I simply could not allow someone- no, something, as unholy as him, to live. In a blind fury, I rushed the kid, pummeling him with punches, but it was too late. He opened his mouth, and began to speak.
Thanks to me spending the last 45 years trying as hard as I can to repress the memories of what happened after that, I don’t remember what he said, but I know EXACTLY what it felt like. The insults knew everything about me. And it wasn’t the swear words that hurt, it was the pure and utter ANNIHALATION of my character. It felt like all of the greatest literary minds had spent thousands of years plotting a speech to perfectly deconstruct me, to clarify every miniscule weakness and unequivocally invalidate all of my perceived “strengths” as nothing more than my own false hopes. If the speech was not tearing away at my soul with every word, it would almost be beautiful. Something so incredibly personalized- a perfect essay designed to serve me, and only me. My brain was in utter disarray, trying and failing to make sense of how my level of self worth could drop from quite high to an infinitely negative value in just a matter of seconds. Everything faded to black as my reasonable consciousness retreated behind trauma and my primal subconscious emerged with only one directive: End my suffering.
Luckily, I didn’t end up like poor Spencer. I had managed to hold on long enough for the ambulances to arrive before I killed myself. Unlike me, Spencer had a massive ego, which ultimately made him much more susceptible to something like this. I can’t even comprehend how anyone could feel something worse than what I felt- but I know one thing… Spencer did.
I spent 10 years in a Phsyc ward. The first 4 years were the worst of them, because I could remember every word that kid said in complete vivid detail, and every waking moment was spent contemplating one snippet of it or another.. It was only after a therapist convinced me I was, as the very least, worth enough to spare myself of these horrible memories that I was able to gradually forget the words. Even though my sense of self worth never has and never will return, I was able to develop an analogy to keep me stable. I may be the most worthless person on earth, but that means everyone else is worth so much more. Therefore, I must devote my life to improving the lives of those who deserve one, and I cannot do that if I take my own.
With that, I managed to convince them to let me out of the ward, and from there on out I spent the rest of my life doing whatever I could to improve the lives of other people. I’d pick up trash, donate what little money I had, and thousands of other tiny things to improve the lives of everyone but me. Now, why would I wait so long to talk about this? Well, I wasn’t planning on ever talking about it… but I saw him again.
I was doing volunteer work at a homeless shelter yesterday when I saw the local news broadcasting a court case. The defense’s argument were being completely demolished by the prosecutor- and I think you know where this is going. I gave a good look at the prosecutor, and saw the unmistakable face of the same person who had done this to me all those years ago. It seemed like he had gained some sort of control over whatever allowed him to make his arguments so perfect, because while they were certainly compelling, they weren’t anywhere near the absurd- and dangerous perfection of the one unleashed on me. Honestly? I thank the kid for showing me just how worthless I am. If I had never realized, I probably would’ve been the same old asshole for the rest of my life. Despite that, you should probably still think before you talk.
Words can Hurt.