Why Should I Have to Hold My Tongue?

Despite how kind I had been to others, I seemed to continuously get screwed over. I figured that this was the case for others as well and that I was nothing special, but I could not help but to wonder why things had to be this way. It simply was not fair that people got to treat other people so terribly and seemingly get away with it. They carried no remorse over how they acted, and I most often wrote them off as having no human conscience. I just wished that they would learn some human decency, and it often resulted in me brewing up some terrible things that I truly desired to say to them.

I know, I know; I would feel guilty if I were to tell these people what I really thought. Unlike them, I was raised with manners and would not be able to live down saying such horrific things like they have said to me or about me. Most often, I think of things that are arguably worse than the things they have said to me, and as much as I think I would feel justified, I also know that it would most likely not change anything.

Other than them seeing me as some punching bag who would take it, that is.

As much as my dear friends and family admire me for holding my tongue, I cannot help but to feel that it is a curse at times. Sure, the kinds of people who always spoke what was on their mind were often the types who were overly aggressive and confrontational. But I admired the edge to them, and they knew how to protect their feelings better than I do.

How I wished I could be utterly heartless. If I could exact revenge and be one of those "brutally honest" types who told it like it was, I would surely destroy others and reduce their self esteem to nothing. They are nothing, if they can go about acting like they are such good people who deserve love after how they treated me. And on top of that, they treated those I love just as badly. They deserve no closure, which is precisely what I somehow do not get. They should be left wondering what they had done to deserve someone as awful as them.

Having been left to stir with my thoughts, I often wonder if I am truly toxic. Sure, I never acted on any of these thoughts or any of the things that I really wanted to say, but the fact that such horrid ideas are brewing in my head must say something.

I detested the way that my aunt treated my mother and father. She seemed to think that there was no wrong she could do, and that she was always the victim of any and every situation that she found herself in. Or, more appropriately, any and every situation that she had caused. Her abhorrent drama seeking ways often earned the scorn of my other aunt, who had a knack for putting her younger sister in her place. And whenever she did so, I supported her wholeheartedly, even if I did not openly say so aloud among our relatives.

On the other hand, there was my equally delusional cousin, who was developing his own victim complex. As much as he thought that he was such an upright individual, he was whiny and sought any chance to make himself look good. He failed to keep a good relationship with either of our grandparents, but it really was his own fault, as well as the poor examples he had to raise him. As much as I wanted to put him in his place, I already had a feeling that he would make me out to be the bad guy, even after he had talked all the smack that he wanted to about me behind my back or posted about me on his social media. Perhaps one of my other cousins would have my back in this regard.

Then there was my ex-boyfriend. There was no doubt in my mind that he was surely the biggest cesspool of toxicity of these people who had treated others badly so far. Thankfully, I did not take the brunt of his terrible behavior and actions as much as others did, but I still find myself irritated with the way he had lied to me and about me, as well as the way he gaslit me. I even believed that he may have cheated on me, which I do my best not to think about as it would only sadden me and dig me into a deeper hole of things that I wished to say, which may or may not be arguably uncalled for. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he had failed me and treated other girls even worse. There was no changing with him, because nobody would hold him accountable. However, because I absolutely doubted that there was any semblance of a human soul within him, there was really nothing for me to verbally destroy. After all, life had already done that to him, and I had my revenge already. I was significantly more well off and had more achievements to my name than he could dream of. Besides, even if I wanted to say something to him, I would only give him what he really wanted, which was to argue and to try to get me to look "crazy".

While this one would be perfect, she was physically out of reach and she dragged herself into drama by treating others like she had treated my friends and yours truly, and she earned the backlash and criticism from bullying others on the Internet. I really thought that she was my friend, but she had made it abundantly clear to me that that was not the case; she had falsely accused me of stalking her and her friends. She furthermore claimed that she was "trying to be nice" to me, and that I was "ridiculous". She unleashed an insane verbal assault onto me, which I admittedly had struggled with for months. While my ex-boyfriend was, without a doubt, worse as a person and more severely lacking in morals, my ex-friend was just as abhorrent. She claimed that she ardently cared for social justice movements and for the oppressed, but it was all a ploy just to prop herself up and to earn her more followers. I wished to unleash verbal abuse that could rival hers, if not completely overpower it. Her hypocrisy never failed to astound me, as she often preached to treat others with decency and claimed she was there to spread positivity. What positivity did she contribute to any community she was in?

I did not feel bad for her despite her life circumstances. We all have to grow up and stop making excuses for our awful behavior, do we not? I had to hand it to her, with the way she managed to blame all of her problems on those around her. Whether it was her parents, her friends, her own mental health, or the general mindset of everyone else in the entire world, her victim complex could easily rival that of my aunt and my cousin combined.

What would I even have to say to her? There was so much I wanted to say. My mind was so scrambled and full of ideas as to what I might want to say. Of course, I wanted to concoct it just perfectly so that it cut as deep as her words cut me and hurt me. I did not mind the idea of making her cry, as awful as that sounded.

Perhaps I would start off by saying that "I'm sorry your parents didn't love you enough to raise you right, but that isn't my issue". However, as much as she makes her parents out to be the problem, I find myself doubting that notion more and more. For all I knew, her parents could be fine individuals, and I would not want to insult someone whom I did not target my rage towards.

I often envisioned myself telling her that her hypocrisy knew no bounds whatsoever, or that her activism was absolutely performative. In fact, I would argue that the way she tried to cancel others was just an excuse for her to bully others. She claimed we should hold others accountable, yet she made herself exempt from that; she called me a stalker for trying to hold her accountable since she believed herself above human decency and used shaming tactics to bully someone online. On top of this, she dug up social media posts from someone that was months old, and it really makes me wonder which of us is really the stalker. She did not want to admit that she was wrong in any way, so she resorted to blaming others for her own downfall and wrongdoings.

I did, however, have my chance one day; that is, the chance to let her have it.

While I was out with my friends, we stopped at a store to shop for fabric. We had decided to work on costumes together, as it would occupy us and distract us from the stressful occurrences going on in the world around us. We, unlike poor whiny Whitney, did not do things for attention and validation. We partook in fun hobbies because we enjoyed them, and we lived our lives authentically while not caring about arbitrary numbers. While she claimed not to care about them, I saw right through her; I could see quite plainly that she cared too much about her numbers of followers.

Surprisingly, she found herself in our county. I emphasize heavily that it was our county, as this was our territory, and it was more our territory than it was hers. She was easily outnumbered, and she did not have that one friend she was badmouthing me to with her. For the most part, I had ignored her, though I was certain my friends could tell how tensed up I felt. Of course, they had my back; Whitney had been nasty to one of them like she was to me, and my friends knew the whole story. They redirected my attention to the different types of fabrics before us, so that I would not have to focus too much on her.

As we searched through scrap fabrics for what we needed, she slowly drew nearer, unintentionally approaching us as she wanted to look through the fabrics. The three of us all were searching through them, and I knew she had to have recognized my one friend and me. Surely she could not be so dense as to not recognize us from behind, right? Either way, it did not stop her from being her "authentic" rude self.

"Hey, how long are you going to be?" She asked the three of us, her foot tapping impatiently. "Other people need to look through this pile too, you know."

I wanted so badly to turn around and for my wrath to burn her alive. However, I maintained my cool, despite this being the perfect chance to put her in her place for having disrespected me before.

"Excuse me? Hello?" Her arms shuffled to cross. "Do you plan on getting out of the way anytime soon?"

At that moment, I turned to face her, having collected my fabrics that I needed. Coincidentally, so did my friends, and they watched as her jaw dropped at what I told her.

"I was trying to be nice, but this is getting ridiculous!" I mocked her in an especially high pitched and whiny voice before walking away.

My friends did not even bother to wait until she was out of earshot, cackling wildly as a satisfied smirk crossed my face. I wondered if she would complain about me to someone else and make me out to be the problem, or if she would develop the self reflective skills to realize for once in her life that she was the problem.