I was bullied at school.

Well, bullied is probably too strong a word for the endless, degrading shit I went through, at the hands of people who didn’t know better.

I was the butt of a lot of bullshit at school.

Over the years, I’ve probably amplified it in my head to be far more than it was. Thinking logically, it was no more than the occasional piss-take from a few people, but it came at a time when I was learning who I was; as it does for everyone who has a hard time at school.

I was (still am) overweight, I wore (and still wear) glasses, read a lot, and had crap hair, so I was a magnet for it from some of the cool lads who were on the school football team. I’d get called Penfold, and frequently put down because of how I appeared. I tried not to let it get to me, because there were bigger things to worry about, but shit like that hangs around. Confidence was never something I was overly blessed with, but I made a good show of pretending otherwise, and have done ever since.

Thing is, when I say that shit like that hangs around, I mean to the extent that here I am- at the ripe old age of 31- and I still worry about it. I still almost completely lack confidence in myself, and suffer from incredibly low self-esteem. I’m convinced that it’s what led to me gaining more and more weight- simply because I don’t care enough about myself to bother. As a result, I lack drive and ambition, choosing the path of least resistance where possible.

I’m also incredibly needy, constantly craving attention, and reassurance that I’m doing ok. Twitter is a blessing and a curse here. On the one hand, it’s gives a constant stream of interaction that I can dip into while remaining solitary. On the other, if someone unfollows me, it hits me hard, and I end up getting getting depressed, wondering what I did wrong.

All because two or three fetid shitpipes made themselves feel better about their empty, meaningless lives by targeting me.

It’s not all bad though, I suppose; The upshot is that I have an abnormally developed sense of empathy for others. I’m continually putting everyone else before me, doing favours left, right and centre, and treating people the way I’d like to be treated.

I suppose there’s no real point to this, I was just hoping that it would be cathartic. There’s no point telling your kids not to bully, because the chances are you wouldn’t notice even if they did. Why would you, they’re a beautiful cherub in your eyes. Besides, kids are evil to other kids; that’s how it is, and always will be. There’s nothing any of us can do to change that.

But there’s one thing you can do; tell your kids you love them. That means the world when you think you’re fat, ugly and useless.