My Problem With Piggy
I had always walked around with my nose in the air when it came to befriending certain people at school. Call it self-righteousness for the sake of being popular, or whatever, I had an arrogance that did not allow me to be the considerate person I always thought I was. Sure, I had plenty of friends, but there were a few in my class who rubbed me the wrong way.
I particularly resented “Piggy.” He was the kid whom my group of friends and I would allow to tag along only so we could pick on him, or make the night more entertaining by poking fun at him. He even got his nickname because we made snide remarks about his weight. Thinking back, the only reason I really felt it was okay to hang out around him was because if I could make myself look better in a crowd by using him, it would make me happier.
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