Side Effects Of Being Bullied

I've been studying what makes people "tick" over the last few years... You know, what makes them who they are, why they are who they are, etc... I saw this guy, who I went to school with, but who I was never really friends with, a couple months ago. He talked my ear off! He, pretty much, just opened up, and let it all out. He mostly talked about how he is not getting along with his wife, and how he thinks they're going to get divorced. But, he also touched on how his "dreams of becoming a professional wrestler were shattered" when he broke his back, and how he was tormented throughout high school. That's kinda what got my attention. He had his little group of friends, just like I did. His group were outsiders, just like my group. Neither of our groups were popular. Both of our groups were teased, bullied, and made fun of. The same people that made fun of him all his life were the same people who made fun of me. We should have been friends. Our two groups should have formed an alliance, and destroyed the bullies. But, we didn't. Why? He turned out to be a paranoid, drug addict, psychopath. Why didn't I turn out like that? The side effects of being bullied had two totally different outcomes on us. I kept all of my pain inside, and became this shy, sad, little, pathetic manic depressive, man-child. It all released this huge amount of creative energy in me. It released hate, violence, and drug dependency in him. It's weird, man... Why did his depression make him crazy? Why wasn't he with me, creating music, or art, or something? All of this stuff was going through my head while he talked (for, like, 45 minutes) on that December day. And, that little creative burst of energy in me was forgotten, until I saw him in the grocery store yesterday, and I hoped that he wouldn't "open up" to me like that again, as I was on my way home for lunch. He just spoke for a minute, yesterday, so that was cool... When he finally got done talking, in December, he apologized for talking so long, and said, "I guess I just needed someone to talk to." I felt bad for him. I didn't want to walk away, and tell him that I had to go, or anything... I just stood there, and absorbed his energy. My depression never made me crazy, like him, but I could relate. I used to walk in his shoes. I don't hurt anymore.