I have many stories. All of them too long to share. But they all played a key roll in my younger life, shaping me to become the distrusting person that I was, and, for the most part, still am. The big, big one was my cousin. Long story short, there was some family troubles. I thought my cousin was a good friend. And then one day that was proved otherwise. I was never touched or beaten up in a physical sense, because I was always a big kid for my age. And if pushed around, I would fight back. I only ever had one physical fight, and that was enough to show that I wasn't up for being pushed around in that manner. A lot of anger sitting under the surface, and for the poor soul who presses the wrong buttons, I blow up in their face. I don't care whatsoever. Everything wrong that ever happened to me comes out and I focus it all on one point. But I'm not a fighter by nature, and I don't enjoy hurting people. Easy going, and because of that, slow to fight back. So, after physical options were crossed off the list, it was mental. And mental torment was the weak spot because of all the various things I'd been through up to that point. And, sadly, I was a bit of one too. I was never physical, not even overly harsh. But I was a reflection of what I was recieving. "Bullying" in some sense has a heiarchy. The kids at the top go for the ones lower down. And the ones lower down, go for kids even lower on the ladder. The only difference was, as I grew older, I tracked down every last person I ever wronged, and apologized to them for every bad day I ever gave them.