(The trauma started long before the playground.)
Write. Laugh. Hope.
They tell kids to be kind.
To “use their words.”
To “treat others the way they want to be treated.”
Meanwhile—
the adults scream at waitresses,
mock cashiers,
threaten teachers,
shame survivors,
and call it normal.
You think bullying starts on the playground?
Nah.
It starts when a child sees their parent slam a door,
mock a neighbor,
humiliate someone for struggling—
and get away with it.
Kids don’t invent cruelty.
They inherit it.
From the dinner table.
From the hallway whispers.
From Facebook comment sections.
From adults who forgot their trauma and weaponized their power.
We wonder why kids are mean.
We forget they’re just mirroring us.
The sarcasm.
The judgment.
The eye rolls.
The unchecked rage in a PTA meeting that spills into a schoolyard punchline the next morning.
Adults model power.
And if all they ever show is power through pain,
what do we expect the next generation to do with that?
If you were a kid who got bullied:
maybe it wasn’t because you were weak.
Maybe it was because someone else was watching power get abused and thought that was survival.
Some of us grew up and healed.
Others just got taller and meaner.
And if you’re still carrying the echoes—
still flinching when people raise their voice,
still rehearsing answers to avoid being shamed—
know this:
You were never the problem.
You were just the target.
Because they saw your softness
and called it something to crush.
Write. Laugh. Hope.
Because what the hell else is there?
