Thank you, to all the teachers who (with my parents) leaded me by the straight way: the books one, the respectful one, the knowledge one. And apologies to all of them who I could disappoint not reaching the hopes they put on me.
Thank you, to everyone I met who knew to suffer me. My apologies because I’ve been hard to suffer, sometimes, at least.
Thank you to all of you who have been able to suffer all my defects (a lot of them… although my virtues, not much less, helped you in the task). And apologies for all the times I put you on the nerves, these things happens.
Thank you to anyone who anytime of my life have bullied me, for leaving my life (I could tell your names, but your names have left my life too). My apologies because I was not able to teach you how to not bully.
Thanks to my daughter, who taught me (yes, she did to me) that you can be a member of the group without havint to bully anyone. That if you must bully someone to be part of the group, then the group doesn’t worth the effort. My apologies if sometimes I cannot nail my father’s duties. I’m doing my best, and I guess you know it.
I was bully fodder: short, fatty, not-really-handsome and, worst of all, an accidental nerd. Because an excess of neuronal and reading activity, and a surplus of short-term memory (I lack it now), I was able to get high grades without any effort. And because my innate charm, teachers loved me.
Bully fodder. And because that, and because I was a coward, and because I was ignorant (liar: I knew it was wrong, but I wanted not to accept it), I became a bully (a minor one, the last wolf of the pack). Survival instinct, I wanted to believe all my “adult” life. Bullshit. It was pure need of acceptance. I wanted not to be “one of them” but “one of us”. Without noticing that been “one of them” I could be “one of us”.
For every sneer, I apologize.
For every time I laughed to a sneer, I apologize.
For every time I used a cruel byname, I apologize.
I was weak, and I sided with the strong. I decided to ignore anything I knew because I wanted to be part of a group that did not worth the effort. I can remember some names, surnames and faces. I cannot remember the bynames, lucky me, shame on me, because it means I decided to forgot them, ashamed. They deserved more. I was able to do more. But I decided to not do it. And because that, I apologize.
Although I lost contact with them, lucky them, who will not have a physical memory of the jerks they had around during their childhood. Lucky me, who don’t feel ashamed every time I met them. Shame on me, feeling lucky because I must not be ashamed when I met them.
How many of them worth the effort, how many of them could become true friends with. How many of them could stay at my side, suffering my absurd jokes.
And because all those things, I apologize myself.