The art of forgiving

I have a hard time forgiving people. A really hard time. I remember almost ever single thing that anyone has ever done wrong to me. Every sneer, every dollar not paid back, every knife in my back. I still remember what those people look like, what they did to me, and dream of what I would do to them if I ever saw them again.

But why do I dream of what they've done wrong to me? Why do I obsessively fantasize about getting even when no one else remembers what it is I'm so upset about? Answer? Because I can't forgive myself. I can hardly begin to. I constantly beat my own spirit up about what I've done to people and how evil I am. I can hardly stand myself some days. I literally have dreams about going back after the kids that bullied me in elementary school when I was undersized and bullying them because I'm the crazy one now.

But what if I go back, and no one remembers? What if they've all forgotten? Would that be better because I could carry out my sick dreams and never get caught? Would that really help me? Wouldn't that just make me more evil and sadistic? Wouldn't that make me less able to forgive myself?

Why is it that I'm unable to forgive myself, you ask. Well let's see. I HAVE been that bully that I hate so much. I've beaten down the weak and defenseless. I've been the overly violent one. Let me just say that being the overly violent one is very hard on the soul for me. I feel great when the power of anger is gripped tightly between my clenched fingers that form fists. I feel righteous and invincible and the air tastes so sweet when you breathe it in deep gulps. And then... and then... and then... it ebbs. The feeling of power and control leaves me, and I've done it again. There before me is a crumpled shape that was a confident person that I had to take down a notch for some imagined slight. This slight may not have been directed at me, mind you. It's just that I feel like I have to equalize for everyone I guess. That is such a horrible, empty, desolate place. All the colors come out of the world, and all I'm left with is shame. Hot tears are sure to follow.

So what's this all about? A dream. A dream where I saw someone that used to pick on me when I was in junior high because he was bigger than me, except that now, I'm bigger than him. I'm still pissed off at him, by the way. I have not been able to forgive him yet.

So I see him in the dream and he owes me 500 dollars. I knew he wouldn't be able to pay me back and that's part of my joy. So the next time I see him, I beat him down. I have him hemmed up in a corner and I kick him a few times while he's down for good measure. Nothing in the face, mind you, but he knows he's being kicked. I bend down to him and put my fist in his neck right under the jaw, so he can't go anywhere and I really put my weight into it. I tell him he's got 30 days to pay me, or else it goes up 25 dollars every day after that.

I know he can't pay me back, but that's the beauty, right? I've just told him that's he's mine until I say he isn't. Except that's just a dream. That's not really what happened. The fact of the matter is, until I forgive him, I'm his. He probably doesn't remember me. I remember him. Who's really owned here?

All the things that I'd take back

I'd take back the words that hurt you
I wouldn't make myself lose
I'd keep my dick in my pants
And my hands off the booze

I'd pick you up off the floor
Put the tears back behind your eyes
The knife back in the drawer
I'd give you back your lies

I'd keep the car on the road
The weed out of your lungs
I'd speed up the parts we slowed
I'd take us back to young

The glass would come out of your face
Your smile would be whole again
And your bones would reform in place
...unfinished