Illustration: Pedro Nekoi A few months back, I cut ties with some friends/former roommates because it became clear we weren’t able to treat each other the way we needed to be treated. This was fine and dandy. Friends part ways all the time! But the thing is, I’m still mad.
Every single thing they do, real or imagined, pisses me off. I want to be the mature version of myself that lives in my head, the one that says, “I wish them well,” and never gives them a second thought. But I don’t wish them well! I hope they get eaten by a bear.Finally, after years of running this column, someone has crossed the desert, climbed the mountain, and come to my thatch hut seeking revenge.
I can’t say I don’t relate, TP. Not to mount my cross here, but some people have been pretty mean to me. I’ve had my acid thoughts of wishing pain on them, wanting, dreaming, manifesting: “Hurt the way I’m hurting, the way you’ve hurt me.” You see the problem. There is no direct path to these outcomes, no surefire method we can point to. The helplessness there, your inability to make any of this happen, will only lead to more discomfort, more bitterness, more pain. And who is that for? Why hold that?
I’m not saying spite has no place in our lives, that we have to forgive anyone who has ever wronged us, or even that we should always expect to do the “mature thing” in any given situation. We are humans. It’s going to happen. And sometimes, experiencing pain just means we have skin in the game, that we aren’t impassive observers to a brutal world rife with myriad injustices.
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