Guilt.

The only thing that kept me sane.

His eyes held guilt.

I knew he was sorry.

I knew he wanted to talk to me but he couldn't.

He was too ashamed for what he did to talk to me.

His friends hated me for telling but he didn't for some reason.

When his friends would call me names he didn't say a word he just looked at his feet. Ashamed.

Sometimes when we would be in class together he would just stare at me.

He wouldn't talk to me he was too scared I could see within his eyes. 

Did I hate him?

No.

Did I feel sorry for him?

Yes.

Would I talk to him if I had a chance?

Yes.

He was scared.

I was scared.
-

This is a founder personal story.

Sincerely,

-Antibully