Warning: this story is not suitable for children.

Thinking about hate. I’ve felt hatred before. And I’ve been hated. There are people I still have it out for. And there may be people who still have it out for me. I’ve been on someone’s sh*t list. I’ve been happy when someone died. I’ve maybe even been someone’s worst enemy. I still hold certain grudges.

But sometimes if you hold a grudge for long enough, the person you hate has changed. They’ve moved on with their life, past the person they were when they screwed you. Like if you wait 20, 30, 40 years to really prove your parents wrong—I’ll show you! When you’re old and weak and I’m middle-aged and strong, then we’ll see who laughs last!—by the time they get there, they may be so feeble in body or in mind that the thing you’re still mad about, they’ve totally forgotten, or could no longer conceive of doing, or now it’s like you’re going to beat up on a little old man|woman. That victorious retribution you dreamt of…can it ever be found? Likewise with their dreams of a million-dollar adventurous retirement—with their sedentary habits formed, their medical bills rising, and their bodies too feeble to adventure so much anymore—where did that go, either? Something to think about.

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