<p>I know it sucks stylishly speaking, but however, I put my heart into it and it’s very personal</p>
<p>The victim’s reward
Ever since I was a little boy, I always thought that, somehow, life would work out for me just fine.
In elementary school, I was always the last to be picked in sports, I didn’t have many friends, and above all, I was always the bullied one in every class I attended, so I knew I was the weakest. I’ve always been socially awkward, and the fact that I was inevitably the top student of every class I attended didn’t make things easier. But I still thought that a force, a justice, a truth, some fundamental law of the universe would fix my situation. I thought that if I just kept on acting like a good boy, as my parents put it, life would reward me and punish my bullies. In fact, I believed that their punition would be part of my reward. I was a ten year old kid already craving for revenge, revenge over life and its injustice. And I knew I would get my revenge. Because that’s just how the universe worked. I already saw myself as the most popular, smartest student in secondary school…the girls would love me, the boys would be my friends, I would be their leader.</p>
<p>My revenge didn’t occur in secondary school. I was still the same awkward-around-people, suspiciously smart boy who couldn’t score a goal in soccer if his life depended on it. In fact, things got worse: I had extremely severe teenage acne, I had to put on glasses, and the bullying went much further than expected. I spent most of 8th and 9th grade being slapped on my nap by bullies who clearly found my frustration extremely funny. Teachers did not care…I even suspected them of being afraid of my bullies. My hatred of the world developed quickly and steadily; it was fed by the never-ending slaps and mockeries, the turned backs that my teachers would show me, by the fact that my parents simply seemed to not care about what I was enduring even though at several occasions, I just couldn’t stop the tears from flowing in the car on our way home. But even at that moment, when I thought I was at the bottom of the well, I knew deep inside that life would get better. I still believed in that fundamental law of the universe according to which every pain underwent was a prelude to a reward received. The reward was still the same: revenge over those who hurt me, a revenge that would be accomplished by achieving an exceptionally successful life…I remember that in some nights, I would lie awake in my bed, fantasizing a world in which I would be the boss of all my bullies and would humiliate them just like they did. This future had to happen because I deserved it, in the name of all the pain I had endured.</p>
<p>In high school, things actually got better, at least for the bullying part. However, I experienced a spectacular drop in my grades after my admittance to a reputed French High School in Rabat. I came to question my capacities: was I that smart? Maybe I could both suck at sports and academics. Shocked by the apparent difficulty of the courses, I gave up to mediocrity and convinced myself that average was good. After all, I had been punished all my life for not being average. I didn’t have the right looks, or the right behaviors…I was quite and dispassionate, while loudness and rage seemed to be the norms. Maybe the drop in my grades was an opportunity for me to fit in socially. But it did not happen. I was still rejected of every circle. So I lost faith. I thought that, after all, there may be no universal justice and that a life could go morn and sallow all along. I had accepted my fate. I actually felt relieved: fear, denial, anger, they were all gone at once.</p>
<p>At some point in the process, and for apparently no reason, Hope found me again. And with it, Will. I started working harder on my courses, contemplated the possibility of studying in the US, prepared for the SAT, took it, and had a perfect score. I also began running everyday and finally could run two miles in less than 10 minutes. I found friends that resembled me and with whom I got along just fine. And I knew again that things would work out for me.</p>
<p>As a ten-year old, I was right about my future, but for the wrong reasons. I thought that I would have to just wait for life to give me my reward, a reward that I would deserve simply because of my suffering.
As a High-School student, I was wrong about my future, but for the right reasons. I thought that I was going nowhere with my life, because I had no motivation at all and couldn’t simply sit on a desk and work, or reach to people and talk to them.
Now, I know I am right for the right reasons. I know there’s a bright future for me, and I know I will take it because I’m the hardest working person in the room. That’s as simple as that. Life does not reward us for suffering. It rewards us for working. </p>
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