Bruno

Discussion (7) ¬

1. 
   Jill

   November 15, 2011 at 3:05 pm | #

   I don’t get pleasure in revenge either, but having been bullied in high school, I *so* get the sentiment!
2. 
   Elizabeth

   November 15, 2011 at 10:28 pm | #

   I used to think I would get a lot of pleasure out of that sort of thing.

   Now? I totally understand why I felt that way, but I realize there just isn’t room in my head for those old resentments. At some point between high school graduation and now, all that stuff got onto an express elevator in my head (totally stealing a metaphor from Stephen King) and went straight to the basement.

   My childhood logic wasn’t very good, at any rate; I distinctly remember both planning to live in a glamorous big city when I grew up and imagining having my tank filled and my groceries bagged by the bullies. I don’t know why I thought I’d still be within five hundred miles of them.
3. 
   Snail

   November 16, 2011 at 8:09 pm | #

   I also feel the best revenge is simply NOT living within five hundred miles of people who bullied you in school and never seeing them again. ;)
4. 
   Ronald

   November 17, 2011 at 4:39 am | #

   >>>I also feel the best revenge is simply NOT living within five hundred miles of people who bullied you in school and never seeing them again

   In which case the joke would appear to be on Mary…
5. 
   Elizabeth

   November 23, 2011 at 10:48 am | #

   Snail, you’re absolutely right. “Haha, you form absolutely no part of my life now! I can’t resent you because of how much I don’t care!”
6. 
   Kona

   April 4, 2015 at 10:39 pm | #

   One by one, my high school tormentors fell–death, prison, despicable, miserable lives, all. Sadly, just being them was the worst punishment I could conceive.
7. 
   Meran

   November 18, 2017 at 3:29 am | #

   I was in a hell (foster home) for 2 yrs. Saw my 6 yr old brother get tortured (yes, in every way) and they broke his femur with a 2×4.

   My mother made sure I knew what happened to each of the adults/perpetrators in that house, which helped me overcome my PTSD over the following 25 yrs. I can’t even put into words the sense of justice served as I heard how each (but one), met their ends.

   My poor brother was killed at age 27, still bearing the scars. He never spoke of anything that happened there, but he didn’t get a decent life after.

   So, I have to say that I felt great relief when the evil that was them left our plane of existence.