As an underclassman in high school, whenever people were insulting or cruel to me, I would spend a decent amount of energy devising a perfect cutting revenge. Something short and usually based upon very personal, embarrassing/shameful details they’d told me. I’d wait until they’d forgotten about their transgression (not long, for 15-year olds), then remind them casually and right in public of their dog-fucking habits or of the collection of child rape porn they were hiding on their parents’ computer. I developed a nice style, I think. Pleasantly inquisitive, smiling all the while.
I don’t do that so much any more. I never figured out why people still confided in me, because I’d probably hurt each of my friends at least once that way back then.
Of course, this sort of attack works best when you’ve had that “empathy realization” that happens in high school (or college for some, as I’m learning at Rose)–when you finally understand the effects your words and actions will have on others’ minds. That is, if you’re a sadistic bitch.
I’ve since learned about turning cheeks (for another spanking, of course), talking things out, frowning mightily, and generally doing what American grown-ups are supposed to do when they get angry and hurt.
But sometimes… sometimes it’s someone close enough that their casual cruelty hurts. One cruel comment made in anger and exasperation that sets me off planning revenge again.
I won’t do anything. I’ll talk it out, frown, ask for another spanking, please daddy, and watch the opportunities to inflict immense return damage pass by for the next few days.
Each and every opportunity.
So have I really changed?