Dimas Jonathan, a name I can’t forget of high school’s past. He’s a bully, more than what I have to defeat in Hobart’s presence of junior high. In strings of my memories, Dimas was one of the popular boys in national basketball team, in contrast of my mediocre self back then. More to that, He’s also racking six-packs of thugs under his chest with a complete round of balls on the muscle.
In my real world’s time, he is more of a fire to an impending insult that will rain myself down straight away. Dimas would throw a racist slur to make jokes on me, a slight-to-brown skin of a man, with a bunch of comparison to many kinds of animals and african-names just to have some fun.
Yes, I will not be afraid of high school days’ terror if it’s him alone to fight against. Let me introduce you to hi
