Reflection (7/???)

Do you remember middle school? Let me tell you, those were the best years for me. Your hatred and anger was so ripe back then. Do you remember all the times you were beaten up, called fat, stupid, and ugly? Those words are music to my fucking ears. I remember all the times you got the shit beaten out of you
You never did anything wrong to deserve it, really. You were just fat; an easy target. I remember how you'd react to those confrontations. You'd freeze up, grow cold, your face would get all hot and flushed. That was fear, kid; fight or flight. Do you remember how your stomach would knot up? That was me kicking. You were like an expectant mother being beaten and gang raped in an ally. But I was no dying fetus. I was growing stronger, smarter, more powerful.
They punched right through you and into me. And I welcomed every blow as a gift. It was like feeding through an umbilical chord. Everything you went through, everything that hurt you, scared you, pissed you off, all of that helped build me.

Do you remember how you'd go home crying boo hoo? You'd cry to your mommy about how mean the kids at school were. Mommy couldn't protect you, though. She couldn't fight your battles. You always were pretty soft. You were a mama's boy. That would all change. Still, you'd go to school, you'd be physically or verbally assaulted, you'd take every bit of it, every word, every hit and then take it back home with you.
What's not to love?