Revenge is injurious to health. The thought of taking revenge on someone or something comes back to us as negativity, self-destruction.
But all said and done, we are made up of sands of jealousy and self-remorse. Our lives take a turn for the worse when there is a sand storm in our lives. And it is usually too late before we actually realize that we are burnt in our own revenge.
Everyone engages with the idea of revenge differently. It can be an active or a passive form of wanting vengeance. It can be an overwhelming, all-consuming, desire. My revenge takes a different form.
I avenge the wrongs done to me by venting them out as words. Mere words, banter for many. One leaf of a paper is my best friend when I am wronged. It hears my silent cries and muffled shouts.
Countless pages have been lost innumerable times in the face of my anguish. My emotions that otherwise might never have found a place of their own have been contained on paper. Sometimes my rage and sometimes my gloom all have been borne by countless words. The slate was once clean, but it has been written on repeatedly. Nevertheless, the slate never loses its lustre. I wonder why not.
Now when I look back and take a glance at what and how I have taken revenge, I see nothing but a plethora of words thrown around. The words, all joined together, fit together like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle. A map to the inner sorcerer of my mind. A thousand steps into the jigsaw of my emotions. But the jigsaw is not finished yet. I doubt it ever will be.
Sometimes, I wonder what you think and feel about me when you read my words. Would you feel the pain and anguish with which I wrote my saga? Or would you just read it and burn it all at once?
Well, it never mattered and it would not matter anyway. Because I will know that I lived to tell the truth. My words would survive the winds of the world. Of that, I am very sure.
The words I write…. live to tell my tale. The slate will be broken but the dust of the chalk will always survive.