Unlike my other pictures, this one is very serious. It reflects on a nasty bully I once knew. I won't say his name or the school I attended, but I can assure you, he was the worst bully I've ever encountered. He harassed me every chance he had, saying that my mother dropped me on my head or said I was one messed up mother f'er. I tried insulting him back, but he was made of steel. His skin was paler that a zombies, so I referred to him as "Frosty". He was also a satanist, drawing pentagrams on everything. I hated him so much, I still do. I wanted to hurt him, but I barely restrained myself. I had to move to a different class to avoid him. Then one day, at lunch, he asked me what I was doing, I said I was drawing, nervously. Then he asked me how I was doing. For awhile, I forgave him, but then my hatred resurfaced from the painful memories he gave me. There are times I wish I hurt him, but that would scar my reputation. I was a student the teachers all loved, and doing that would shatter their perspective. Either way, this picture is a symbol of him. I would encourage you to attack your bullies, but that would seem unethical. It is up to you to decide what should be done in these situations.