 You and I were the kinds of people that fought with our hands in our pockets. Most fights we were in ending with us getting our heads shoved into lockers which in our opinion were just large pockets for our heads to rest in. We kept our opinions locked tightly in the change pockets of our wallets which in turn we kept in our back pockets for fear that some pick pocket would find the key to pick the locket that locked our thoughts safely away in the breast pockets of dress shirts behind three pens and a pocket protector. Our other friends merely defectors to the army of the other side unabashedly we walk side by side because we've got the audacity to take all of you on and the only reason why we kept our opinions to ourselves is because were they to be released and when we first shoved our heads into metaphorical lockers it would be reduced to a sniveling crying mess on their bedroom floor but that would be cruel. So we kept our opinions to ourselves because you and I were the kind of eight-year-olds that fought fist fights with our fists full of vestidiously into our front pockets. You and I were not the kinds of people who were supposed to be friends. You hated coming to school in the morning but hated going home in the afternoon even more because your house was where you learned to pull your fists out of your pockets and fight back but your house is merely the training ground in school that I loved which was the battleground view walk side by side with only me. I got along with just about anyone but my eight-year-old self did not care that we walked on two different boardwalks built for people from two different walks of life we still managed to walk side by side. My mother asked me once, Rylan, do you get bullied at school? Not sure where the question came from because the answer was obviously no. I felt the need to elaborate back then. If anyone had ever been dumb enough to lay a finger on me my best friend would have shoved that finger far enough down their throat so they could choke on it so no, I was not bullied in school and it wasn't always because I was the coolest one or got along with everyone so these words about bullying are kind of like virgins writing love poems but I'm taking the time now to do what my eight-year-old self never did I'm taking the time to thank you thank you for walking with me because you and I were the kind of best friends that take mirrors to the backs of our sunglasses so everyone else thought we were just being cool we were really watching each other's backs and even though I haven't seen you in six years probably we'll never see you again and even though you will definitely never hear this thank you for walking with me because you and I are the kind of best friends that still walk side by side so if there are any bullies out there that want to take me on after the show I've got backup in the form of a seventeen-year-old invisible friend who's still my eight-year-old best friend at heart I didn't write this because I was bullied I wrote this because my best friend from grade three to five taught me to root for the underdog regardless of whether or not I see myself in them taught me to see the good side of everyone even those that have fallen between the cracks of the running sidewalks of society so if you're one of those unlucky few that has fallen through I'm sorry but I do not know if it gets better or not but if you were like me and have been lucky enough to stand on top your entire life please take the time to reach down and give them a hand up