Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged. –Samuel Johnson

Although we sometimes try to remain idealistic and positive throughout our daily lives, we’ve all been wronged. We’ve all been taken advantage of. We’ve all been led astray. We’ve all been stripped of the right to know our captors raison d’etre in so doing these things. We’ve all experienced feelings of resentment, feelings of insecurity, and the sense that something just isn’t right. We’ve been mistreated, betrayed, lied to, laughed at, and corrupted. 

This mishandling can cause damage and decay, leaving our hearts black and weary. A callous disregard for other human beings can leave the victimized individuals a bit harder around the heart. If you get knocked down enough times, you’re bound to get back up with guns blazing. Revenge starts to taste a bit sweeter because what could be better than hurting the one who hurt you?

As like anyone else, I have my own long, dark history. One man, in particular, seemingly made it his life’s work to break my will. Or try, anyway. And while I’m far from not exposed to twisted turmoil, I’ve seen more good than bad.

I can’t say, however, that I haven’t thought about what it would feel like to turn the tables on him; to raise my hands to him and hear him cry out in a mixture of pain and apology. I’d be lying if I said I had never thought about getting my revenge on him. I’d be lying if I claimed I never wanted to get him back for all that disparagement and agony he once caused me. 

And maybe in some ways, I already have. Because perhaps the best revenge is being happy. 

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? –William Shakespeare

I knew this woman once.

She was a bright, vibrant woman who had nothing but hope and big plans for her future. She was active, thoughtful, and spunky. She had aspirations to be a physical education teacher in a proverbial small town elementary school. She wanted to teach little kids how to be healthy. She was the life of any party, a free spirited gypsy in bell bottoms and braids. 

She was a child of nature, an innocent. She grew wild, free and unoffending. She had an inquiring mind and she wanted to do something good with it. She wanted to shine her light on the world. She wanted to spend her life smiling. She wanted to be contagious to others. She wanted to share her light.

But as most of these stories go, she met, fell in love with, and married a man who attempted to ruin all that. And for a time, he was successful at it. He broke her down and isolated her. He forbid her from seeing her family (who lived mere hours away) and despite an abnormally high IQ, was unable to ever hold his liquor. Needless to say, things didn’t work out between them. When the moment presented itself, she ran long and fast. Eventually he became nothing but a very distant memory, a faded Polaroid she kept in a paisley box under her bed. 

The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury. –Marcus Aurelius 

Then she met another man, one who worshipped her and showered her in expensive gifts. A man who, rather than keeping her from her family, schmoozed them. It wasn’t just this woman who had fallen in love with this man. They all had. He was tall, but very gentle. Handsome, but ever humble. Smart, but not a know it all. A man dressed in a slick New York City suit, but with a common, kind air that was characteristic of a small town man. A hardworking salesman, but seemingly, very honest. 

But throughout their journey, he threw vicious little kinks into the story. He was a traveling salesman who dabbled in music. He was worshipped among his colleagues for his ability to not only be an immaculate musician, but also to sell the pants off of anything. He had an enormous rolodex full of friends from all over the world. One of them told the woman in earnest, “I’m not surprised that you married him. You would make a good time out of prison…”

That conversation would be one that echoed in her head for her entire life. 

It turned out that he was a habitual womanizer, literally picking up women wherever he found them. He was very handsome, charming, and above all else, convincing. He could get anyone to fall in love with him and along his many travels he found Carol, Stormy, June, Joyce, Patricia, Noel and God only knows who else. His hunger apparently knew no satisfaction. 

And for this particular woman, the one with the permanent smile and sunshine in her eyes, that shit got old.

Moral of the Crazy: Lex Luthor said that revenge is like an addiction, that it’s something that would keep you up at night and keep you motivated throughout the day. They say the best revenge is being happy and moving on from that previous life. (It’s sort of like in The Good Wife when Alicia left Lockhart/Gardner and punished Will by dressing in those sexy, snappy suits the wardrobe designer always puts her in. #Jealous.) 

Maybe it’s even about forgetting what happened and waking up each day as if nothing happened. They say the best revenge is served cold but as much as I love that saying, that would mean every action has a distinct, directed purpose. That every move has been calculated. And that would mean that every person on the receiving end of said revenge is one’s purpose in life. And I don’t like that. 

Because I live my life for me. Not for him. That unmentionable man from my past seeing me ecstatic is just an added bonus. I don’t want to give him, or anyone, that much power, you know?

I know they say, “An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,” and “One new bangle for that awesome one you jacked from me”. Sometimes aggression hungry individuals hold onto things and they believe the only thing that will satiate them is revenge. They want revenge of the fallen, they want to inflict pain equal to that they feel they’ve suffered, they want to seek vengeance on those who have hurt them. Because they feel it’s their right. They believe it’s their severance. 

Listen, I have my own anger. Lots of it, actually. I’ve suffered my own unattractive tragedies but it gives me something to write about. It teaches me how to genuinely appreciate good people. It’s taught me how I want to be treated, how to command the respect I deserve, and how to sift out the unscrupulous people.

I’m not going to lie and say that I’m sweet and collected all the time because let’s be real: I’m not. But I’m getting better at it. 

And what is revenge, anyway? The knowledge that you’re able to hurt people? The awareness that you can get to them the way they can obviously get to you? The realization that you are super transparent (cough cough, Taylor Swift) and are going to make it all the more obvious by proving some stupid, unrelated point? Yes, I get it. You’re pissed off. He’s a jerk and you’re nearly six foot and have great hair. Let’s move on from this.

Why would anyone want to do that?

That woman I spoke of earlier? She has no revenge plan. She isn’t unraveling some crazy plot that foils her demented ex in the end. She just lives her life. She’s that same free spirit she was before this ailment. She spends her life smiling, doing things for people, and learning more about what makes her happy and what she wants. That other stuff that happened to her? 

It came and went.

Unfortunately, it’s just human nature. We hurt each other, sometimes without sense of reason. It’s what we do with our lives afterward that determines the kind of people we are.

It’s impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge. –Friedrich Nietzche