Strike Me Gently

"Holding a grudge is like swallowing poison and hoping the other person dies." Such a statement of truth and as cliche as they come. It's commonality echos through all social structures of today. Experiencing the short hand of poisoning myself with such pointlessness, revenge was the only way to counter act the inclination of holding onto your hatred for someone. But revenge? Such a fickle concept. An idea that can either taint you from deep within your core or slowly seep through to the surface of your being, regardless of whether you are wearing a facade of deception, it will destroy the 'picture-perfect' image you so desperately try to portray of yourself. Against the initial satisfaction it lends, it rapidly morphs into something quite soul destroying. Revenge consumes you like a destructive disease of the mind, next to impossible to resist it's tantalising pulls.

But, the idea of it gets complicated when the lines between right and wrong are blurred. Like the lines strategically placed to separate them are purposely smudged in a malicious attempt to create confusion. Who is to dictate what is what? Human's are faulted by nature. So the act of justifying what is right and what is wrong is inconspicuous and subject to opinion.

Against all better judgement, I found myself falling victim to the temptation. Despite all logic and reasoning, my conscience was washed away in a flash-flood of emotions pushing for my response to favour my emotional state of mind.

On paper, it would be hard to deny the legitimacy of my actions as being wrong. Confident it would relay as an act of self-defence, I had little doubt in my plan. I was hurt and rightfully convinced I needed to develop some form of a shield to protect myself from the aftermath of being cheated on. Of course, the concept of being cheated on is no longer an act of blasphemy, but rather it is believed to be a right of passage. However, stumbling upon the evidence that it has happened to you is no easy pill to swallow.

Typically, the initial emotion one succumbs to is hurt. Heartache is so blatant it proves nearly impossible to ignore or avoid and is the obvious reaction to something as traumatic as being treated wrongly. But I was plagued with anger and an immense amount of hatred. There was no ounce of pain within me. No empathy or understanding. No willingness to understand the situation. Instead, there was a rush of adrenaline that ignited excitement within me. Perhaps being accustomed to living in an environment that thrived off scandal was to my own detriment, but the thought of creating something revolutionary from the misfortune I was so 'kindly' handed was much too enticing to ignore.

Naturally, my scheme for revenge was not worthy of sharing with anyone. The doubt I held for anyone holding a secret was undeniable. I lied to my family about him and what he meant to me, how in love we were, while convincing my friends how perfect the sex was. In all honestly, that was not entirely a lie. The sex had always been good and had only intensified when I set my goal on and mind on vengeance.

The echo of his unfaithfulness echoed in my mind, especially during those times I had him in my mouth, gasping for air, or the times I allowed him to throw me around into positions that hurt me to the point of crying. It was all worth it. I wanted and needed to reap the rewards of my retribution against him. And while I was urging him to join the cruel game of seduction I had created, I was establishing a good relationship with her boyfriend, preparing myself for the perfect act of revenge.