Yeah, I had my mental and emotional sanity continually rubbed away by the outright hate I got in middle and high school. It got to the point that by the end of high school, I was the Hulk. Most of the time, I was Bruce Banner- intelligent, inoffensive and quiet, spending most of my time reading. But if you picked on me and screwed with me long enough, I'd snap and beat the crap out of you. For that very reason I still say that line from "The Hulk" TV series today. "Don't make me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."
The worst was when a girl in my sophmore class picked my glasses off my face and snapped them in half in front of me. I never thought the expression "seeing red" was true until that moment. I completely wigged out to the point where I don't remember what really happened. When I got my normal vision back, I was smacking her head into the ground in the doorway saying, "You won't do that again, will you?"
Her little brother decided he was going to attack me for that, so that summer, he got six friends of his to attack me physically in the video arcade. They were standing around me punching and hitting me, all of which I ignored (it barely hurt) until baby brother decided to start punching me in the stomach. Now, that hurt, so I grabbed his fist and bit it with all my might. He screamed, "Aah! She's killing me! She's killing me!", which ramped up their punching (Still didn't hurt much) and I only let go when one of them hauled on my long hair and yanked hard several times. He and his friends ran off with him yelling that he was going to sue me and my family.
I ran home in fear and told my dad what had happened, and he said, "Seven boys attacked you? And you fought back? If they try to sue us, we'll have him and his friends arrested for assault!" (I love my Dad!) Well, lo and behold, I never heard anything from them... until the next year in school. I'm in the library when this kid I don't recognize comes up to me and tells me that I am going to give him all my money whenever he tells me to, no matter if I have 50 cents or 50 bucks. And I said, "What makes you think I am going to do that?"
He pulls a hand out from under the table, and there are bitemarks in it (5 months later yet no less). I looked at it and felt a slow burn. I turned to the kid and said, "How'd you like a matching set of hands, buster?"
He never bothered me again, and later on, neither did anyone else.