Yes they do change, well this one did. Let me explain. I spent most of my life traveling the world. I was great fodder for bullying. I always had the wrong accent. Wrong clothes, I was just wrong. At around 15 I learned to act tough. I remember one particular school in Zimbabwe I attended. I was bullied daily for my British accent.Plus my dad drove us to school in a sports car (this did not help much in a country under sanctions). Years later in South Africa a girl appeared from that school.
I bullied her for two terms, in fact she left. This included tripping her while in queue to attend class. Hiding her satchel on many occasions. Getting crowds to join in on mocking her. As well as sending her strange notes across the room during class. This particular school I speak of was also fond of hazing, so my behavior wasn’t frowned upon.
She eventually left. Years later as an adult my behavior still haunts me. I think of her often. I wish I could meet with her and apologize. To explain I was an idiot on a vendetta. I would never hurt, nor harm a human being today, not psychologically nor physically. It was a moment in time and I am ashamed of it. One often wishes one could undo the past.
In fact this is what I would say to her:
I was a scared, frightened teenager. I had angers and fears I couldn’t discuss with anyone. I needed help. I wasn’t who you thought I was, the tough bully you feared every day.