I'll be the first to admit I've had vengeful thoughts. A lot of them. Don't bother telling me that you haven't. What about when some kid hit you with a Tonka truck when you were playing in the sandbox? When you're really small you might just cry. When you're a little older you probably struck back with a bigger truck. Such is humanity's nature.
On the other hand, I think the best revenge is living well -- and I'll tell you honestly, that bit of wisdom took me a long time to come around to accepting. There's some people I still want to hit with a Tonka truck. In fact, forget Tonka. I'm thinking Mack truck. (That's a big semi truck for moving stuff for those of you who don't know.) But hitting them with a truck of any size doesn't make my problems go away, and dwelling on how much I hate them only uses up the energy I could otherwise be using to improve my life. Besides, adults who do revenge-worthy activities are doing those things to keep others down. Refusing to allow them to keep us down is the ultimate win.
But yes, I've had angry thoughts. I've had so much anger inside with no place for it to go that I turned it at myself, which is the ultimate win for people who wanted to hurt me. They don't have to keep hurting me if I'll do it for them.
My first boyfriend was an older man. He was 18 to my 13 or 14. He was a sweet farm boy, and I liked holding hands and kissing. I thought that was all there was to a relationship and daydreamed our future of perpetual handholding, marriage, and perfect babies. This continued on in a very pleasant way for several months until he pawed at me in his truck and I expressed outrage about him invading my private space.
Okay, now I'm able to wonder about his restraint up to that memorable night while laughing at myself for ever having that level of innocence. Poor Dave. Poor next girlfriend of Dave. I bet he quit being so patient after that, and I made it worse by leaving a dead snake in his truck. Maybe if I were older I would've discussed boundaries and expectations, but I wasn't older. My body was more mature than my mind.
Sometimes I send out happy thoughts for Dave. I hope I didn't mess him up because I really did care about him, and he was a nice guy. I was just too young to date. The snake was an impulsive, childish whim egged on by a spiteful friend. I'm ashamed of myself, but there's no changing it. The only thing left is to learn the lesson from the experience.
No more dead snakes. (Which I didn't kill by the way. I just found it on the road.) No more Tonka trucks. It's not like I haven't gotten provocations, and a lot worse than a teenaged boy trying to get in my shirt, but revenge doesn't take me anywhere I want to be.