Ozbots

     Have you…

…Ever been a victim?

…Ever wanted revenge?

       Despair no longer! No need to shed a tear! This article is here.

AHA! I assume that you, reader, by responding to the query above, have been hurt by another individual sometime in the past – or are being hurt by someone as we speak, or rather, as you are reading this.

In this world, there are but 3 kinds of people: those who kill, those who are killed, and those who watch as the other two go about their grim business. What does this tell us? That one way or another everyone – all the 6,606,971,659 people in the world – has been, is, or will be an accessory to some kind of murder. Maybe not murder in its most concrete sense, but the murder of something abstract – a dream, a relationship, even a future.

Well reader, it must be made known to you that I admit to being – in at least one point of my life – all three of those kinds of people. However, I wish to impart to you but one story, showing but one facet of this multi-paradigmed circumstance – the one that involves the most pain. 

It was around 12 years ago. I was in first grade, a time when school ended at 2:15pm, when 20 bucks meant as much as a 1000, and when food was, to the eyes of 6-year-old girls, very expensive. Indeed, it was a period when the food that one was able to purchase was devoured and wolfed down, not by the purchaser but by surrounding scavengers hiding behind little, adorable faces. It was then that one faithful – rather, unfortunate – day I was able to, with the little money I had, purchase a small order of sour cream flavored fries. Oh, what joy it was to hold that small, warm pack in my hands! Oh, how the happy feeling swelled within me as I scurried back to the concrete pavement outside my classroom.

But woe! My glee was to be short-lived, for I would never make it safely back to my classroom.

On my way, fries in hand, I met my friends. They ran up to me asking to have a share in the bounty I carried. I willingly agreed. These girls were, after all, my friends. And so, after such a philanthropic display, I carried on. But words traveled faster than my two little feet. Soon enough, more and more little girls approached me – classmates whom I hardly ever talked to, begging, with their hungry eyes, to have some of my fries. Oh, how the feelings of joy left me as confusion started to set in. The palm that held the precious bundle became sweaty as I troubled about keeping the last few pieces to myself or giving them away. 

“The last few pieces of the fries I had bought with MY money ought to be eaten by no one else but ME.” It was then that I decided to refuse their advances. Many left with shoulders slumped in defeat. But, there was this one girl, twice my size, who refused to take “no” for an answer.

In this article, I will call her Lyn.

So, as I walked away, Lyn summoned all her strength – heavy as she was – to run after me. She pushed me from behind – making me fall, face first, to the cold, rough, and hard concrete pavement.

I could not stand up, could not move. The pain I felt was tremendous. It pierced through my little knees, my thin arms, and my face.  There I cried, with the last of my sour cream fries scattered around me, until my teacher ran up to carry me to the clinic. 

I suffered severe wounds in my extremities. The wounds, after clotting, looked like big dark brown maps of continents in my skin. My face, thankfully, was not disfigured. However, the impact of the blow brought forth scratches in my cheeks and caused my first permanent tooth to fracture. Yes, reader, I was devastated. There and then, I had lost a significant amount of blood, a part of myself, and my innocence. For the first time, I wanted revenge.

For weeks, I carried with me the scars in my limbs. For months, I brought with me the trauma of such an event. For years, I took with me a bitter remnant of that cursed day. I wanted to make that monster of a girl pay for all that I had suffered.

You, reader, surely can relate to being victimized. In truth, my experience may not be as grave as what you have gone through. However, I hope you understand that, although the magnitude of such events may vary, it all boils down to the same thing. What do we victims want? Revenge. What and who can’t we ever forget? The incident. The perpetrator. But, you see, I have realized that nurturing such a dark seed in one’s heart is not the answer.

After the incident, I had to make various trips to the dentist – something I feared. I had to have my tooth reconstructed. Come Christmas time, Lyn’s mother gave me a present hoping that it might make up for the atrocity Lyn had committed.

It did not make it all right. It did not undo what Lyn had done.

Though I wanted revenge, I could not make myself inflict to Lyn the pain I had felt. I could not bring myself, though countless opportunities presented themselves, to push Lyn down the stony pavement. I could not. I would not. 

Over the years, I realized one important thing. And this, reader, I want to impart to you with the hopes that the you may find peace and resolution, that you may let go of the bitterness you have felt, are feeling, and may feel, as I once had.

ONE MUST LEARN TO LET GO. Cliché? Perhaps. I understand that such an act is tedious to follow through, especially if you are the victim. 

All the brooding and scheming for revenge is tantamount to nothing. It will leave you empty and thirsty. It will drill a hole into you, reader – a void that can never be filled, lest you fulfill your desire for retribution. But what will that lead to? It cannot and will not undo what has happened to you. It cannot and will not give you redemption. In fact, you will have achieved nothing but damnation.

Let Go. Picture yourself, reader, holding onto a knife, hands bleeding. The pain stinging and increasing as each moment passes. That is you, holding on to wanting vengeance, afraid that, if you let go, there will be nothing for you but the empty, dark abyss below. What you fail to see, however, is that your toes are, in reality, but an inch away from the surface – that by letting go, you gain stability and end your suffering. 

I carried my hatred towards Lyn until fourth grade. I never spoke to her, never said hello. Until, I realized: What good will it do? What could I gain? Nothing. It was then that I, once and for all, decided to free myself and uproot the tree of hate that grew in my heart. What good did that do me? It gave me peace.

Still, I did not say hi to Lyn. I would never do that. But, in my heart, I had let go. I felt peace. That, reader, is what I wish for you to feel, too. 

You need not pretend to be in good terms with those who have wronged you. You need not smile when they pass you by. You let go, not for them, but for yourself – that you may have peace of mind, that you may be free. Those who have wronged us may forget what they have done. After all, it is the wronged who carry the burden of memory. So, I say this and this alone: Let go not because the one who has hurt you merits forgiveness. Let go because you – yes, YOU, reader – deserve peace.

I hope that you, reader, while reading this article, have come to a realization, similar to what I have arrived at while living it.