I used to wonder how someone could dedicate their entire life to seeking revenge. Does this happen in reality? Or is it just dramatised on TV to keep us hooked to the plot?
In the past 18 months, I’ve come to see how it is possible. To be consumed by rage. To want to inflict pain on the people who have hurt you. And to see them suffer like you did.
I remember writing down the actions and words that hurt me, so that I could refer to them anytime I felt the propensity to move on and forget. I did not want to forgive. I did not want to forget. I wanted the pain the be etched so deep in my memory that I would never make the same mistake of trusting anyone the same way ever again.
I read them again, and again. Each time I felt I was moving on in life, I would read them to re-open the wounds. My hands would tremble, and I thought I was having an anxiety attack. But my therapist said that it was not anxiety. It was anger. Those weren’t sad tears but hot, angry tears.
There are many different types of revenge, from something as passive as ignoring the person to threatening and embarrassing them. I wanted to do something that felt proportionate to my pain. I devised an elaborate plan. The thought of one day executing it always made me feel a strong sense of satisfaction. Some people say that revenge makes you miserable. But I didn’t think so. I could see myself very, very happy.
But lately, having tasted the sweetness of life once again, I’ve started to think that maybe it is not worth it. I have put myself through enough misery while waiting for that one bittersweet moment. I haven’t been able to live in the moment. And I have hurt no one but myself.
So here is what all my plots of revenge will amount to – a word of thanks.
Thank you for hurting me. Thank you for helping me dodge a bullet. Thank you for giving me the chance to love and be happy again. Because if you hadn’t hurt me, I would probably still have been stuck in that little bubble of yours, wondering why this world is such a sad and lonely place.
Thank you.

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