I hate to jinx things, but I think I’m moving this weekend. If it happens (which it still might not), I’ll be thrilled to death, even with packing up all my stuff and selling my table on pretty short notice. I still like my room, and it certainly feels like home, but there are still times when I’d honestly rather buy a train ticket and run away from home than deal with my living situation. To that end, it’s hard for me to accept that my roommates are getting off scott-free for what has been months of psychological torture. It’s pretty tidy on their end- they’re just getting away with everything, and won’t even have to pay extra rent. It’s rather galling actually, especially because while I think I’ve been annoying to them, I’ve mostly been a blip, like having a mosquito in the house, while to me they’ve become larger-than-life monsters who have had an enormous impact on my time in nursing school. It doesn’t seem fair, and so I’ve been wracking my brains trying to think of a (legal) way to get back at them. In a purely fantasy way I thought about hiding bits of raw meat around the apartment so they would rot and smell bad, and probably attract rats. I thought about going to the school and reporting them for being bullies, but that would be a huge pain in the neck, and those things never seem to work out in favor of the bullied. I considered forwarding their bitchy messages to their boyfriends, so they could see who they were dating, but that probably wouldn’t do anything either. Honestly, they worked this whole thing perfectly, and there isn’t anything I can do. Sometimes bad guys win, and this is one of those times. They’ll probably go on to have nice lives, and the fact that they acted horribly won’t matter at all. They don’t think they did anything wrong, so they won’t learn from this experience, and that’s that.
It’s pointless, but plotting revenge is fun. My friend Alex thinks so too, and so he and I brainstormed about it today at school. He suggested all kinds of over-the-top things, but my favorite was that I should buy bedbugs and plant them in the apartment. It would be hard to trace back to me (as long as I bought them with cash, and didn’t you know, blog about the whole thing for the internet to read), and in many ways it would be perfect, because it would cost money to deal with cleaning everything, and it would be inconvenient, and physically uncomfortable, and kind of stigmatizing, but not life-threatening. He looked up places to buy bedbugs, and we had a good laugh (the kind of laughing where tears run down your face, and people on the bus smile at you because it’s nice seeing someone having such a good time), and suddenly I felt better. There aren’t very many successful revenge stories anyway- it usually backfires and ruins the life of the person seeking revenge (even more than it already was ruined and prompted him to seek revenge in the first place), which is probably not accidental on the part of authors. It’s all well and good to giggle with your friends about filling an apartment with crickets, but actually doing it brings you down to level of the people who wronged you. Even harmless stuff (my aunts suggested that after I move I send hundreds of pizzas to the apartment) is damaging, and while I usually sort of stink at letting things go, I’m really hoping to never think about these girls again after I move. I never like hearing it, but living well may actually be the best revenge.
I had a long day at school, and then I had to stop at the pet store to buy cage bedding for Flora, and on a whim I bought her the really nice kind. When I got home I emptied out her crate, and washed it, and filled it back up with lovely new bedding, and took out the trash. I actually really like taking out the trash- it’s one of my favorite jobs because then you get to start over with a fresh bag, and I felt really peaceful. I came up to my room, and sat on my bed, and listened to some music, and it hit me that I wasn’t angry anymore. I didn’t want revenge, I didn’t want anyone to suffer, I just wanted to move and move on. It might not last, and if my roommates come home and give me a hard time I’ll probably fall back into daydreaming about dumping glitter all over the apartment (including in the fridge), but I’m hoping to hang onto this calm. I don’t want to be the kind of person who wants to be the cause of anyone’s suffering.