When I was 4 in preschool. I didn’t know that things about me were different from other little boys. The first thing I remember and I felt really hurt by it was everybody making fun of my backpack bc it had pretty flower graphics on it.
It got worse and worse and the teasing and bullying escalated to me getting beat up a lot. Mostly in the bathroom or on the playground. Every single day I had to go was terrible, and I constantly felt paralyzed and helpless. They peed on me and thought it was really funny. On the playground there was this playhouse that had a bunch of bee nests in it. Nobody would go near it so I’d hide there. I’d crawl in and lay on the ground in the dark so nobody would see me and the bees wouldn’t attack. I hated every second of it but it felt like the only option I had. I’d wait there until it was time to go in.
eventually after showing up at home w/bruises all the time my parents took me out of that place