As mass murderers steal headlines
I wonder about when I was bullied.
I feel the emotions I felt then.

In Japanese class, we latched onto the cool kid,
It was me, B__, A__, and P__,
tables at the back of the room
so we could point at the anime kids
with colored hair
and laugh
with P__.

B__ and I were in Middle School anime club
I liked Pat Labor and Sailor Moon.
After the first day of laughing, 
I remember B__ pulled me aside in the hallway:
“You’re not gonna tell P__ that we were in anime club,
are you?”

I never did. But who cares?

Now I think back to when I was bullied
by myself,
refusing to enjoy what I liked
and shoving everyone else,
anyone else,
into the crosshairs.

As mass murderers steal headlines,
I wonder about when I was bullied
and whether or not they, too,
were bullies, not victims,
and don’t know the difference.