Sorry

My father said if I didn't kick your ass next time
He'd kick mine
He was so sick of watching me hold my breath
Trying to retain my dignity
Not wanting him to see me cry
So I ran home for an entire year
Most of the time I was successful
I became one hell of a fast runner
Sometimes I wasn't
And your throng of followers
Would swarm around me
Stinging me with words, punches
Until I went home a bloody, crying
mess.

You made seventh grade impossible.
Eighth grade was no better,
And I still can't speak in front of crowds
without choking, sinking,
trying hard to breathe.

You moved in ninth grade

I had't heard from you in 25 years
Until last month
when you messaged me randomly
on Facebook
to say "Sorry."

There was so much I wanted to tell you,
I still can't speak in public,
My feeling different at times is crippling
If I see people laughing I think it's at me still
And even though I'm, by most measures, successful,
I feel "not good enough" most of the time
And spend too much time drinking alone.

I also don't take "no" as an answer
And when my marriage fell apart
I knew all I needed to about isolation
He couldn't land a blow that I couldn't absorb
And not many people surprise me.
You shaped who I am.

I learned to be sorry for you.
I had the luxury of being someone else's victim
You had the curse of being your own.