Because I Think I’m Right

Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult. On the contrary, repay evil with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.

—1 Peter 3:9

When I’m trying to forgive someone, I picture myself physically lifting that person off a big hook, like in a cartoon. I never want to. I prefer to stew and focus my anger on them like a laser pointer, and wish them illnesses and bad skin. I hope that they will get fat and people will talk behind their back and their toilets will overflow and their computers will crash.

The thing that keeps me going with the anger and the rotten feelings about my friend is that I think I’m right. Really. When I think about what happened, I think she did a bad thing to a not entirely bad person named me. I want her to have to apologize. Loudly. Publicly. And give me a present, too. I want her to feel how bad I felt, how small and scared. I want her to tell me she was wrong, and promise never to do anything like that again, in writing, with a notary public present.

I think if we went to court, some strange friendship court where you can get a ruling about these things, I think I would win, still, even after all these months.