The Gorgeous Darkness of Resentment

The greatest thing about resentment is its complete and utter devotion. We can count on it like an old, messy friend, the sort of friend that swears a lot but is undeniably intelligent so much of the time. My resentments are as reliable as mud in April, or mosquitoes in August. It is comforting to know that I will never lose my resentments until I say so. And even then, I can yank them right back any ol’ time I please.

There are a few reasons my darling resentments serve me so well.

First, I get to be right. I get to polish my ego-driven righteousness every single time someone reminds me of the bitter injustice, the cause for my wrath. I get to be a heroic martyr and a glory hound for one singular cause of the world, myself!

Secondly, I get to be funny. I can crack jokes at the expense of others, the wrong, selfish, immoral, very bad, pathetic, weak, cowardly worms of the earth. This laughter cake is frosted with superiority and Wow! It tastes good.

Third, I get to build armies of those willing to join my battle. Those numbers will get measured on the scales of justice too. The more people who will hate with me, the more I get to broil in the cauldron of pain, vengeance, and cruelty. With an extra dose of teamwork, we can hate like champions!

Indeed, having my resentments chained to my inner walls makes me feel powerful. And who in their right mind does not wish to feel such power? Especially if one has spent a lot of their lifetime feeling immensely disempowered.

Isn’t it true that my inky black coat of cynicism and disgust will protect me? Even if it does make me want to hurl and grind my teeth down to a grain of sand? Even if it justifies every self-destructive thing I’ve ever done? Even if it kills me?

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