When I was in primary school, there was this kid in class who was frequently bullied by the rest of the boys. There was no particular reason for their constant torment apart from the fact that he did not really fit in with the rest of the kids. He was awkward, shy, short and chubby. I never talked to him despite the fact that we were in the same class. I don’t really remember why but I believe that it had something to do with his pariah status.
When I was serving my 3 months of National Service, there was this guy who was sleeping in the bed opposite of mine. He was not particularly liked by anyone because of his cocky nature. One night as I went to brush my teeth I heard a commotion in the bathroom. When I reached the narrow alley in the big common shower room, I saw a group of at least 20 boys crowded around him. He was there, cowering down against the tiled wall, whimpering like a wounded dog as a bunch of them were blowing cigarette smoke into his face. Before my brain could properly process what was going on, one of bigger boys among them punched him with full force in the face.
Helpless and defenseless but yet I did nothing nothing nothing. For that I hate myself.