On days when I’m not thinking about killing myself (I won’t; my tits are too nice to waste), I’m contemplating murdering the man who abused me mentally, physically and sexually for most of my adolescence. It’s been, damn, 13 years since he left me a crumpled heap, and I’m now a mostly successful, functioning, married adult. But I can’t let it go and I’m haunted by thoughts of homicide.
So, how do I get over it? Alternately, will you help me bury the body?
While I’m not currently available to help you bury the body, I will say that homicide is the superior instinct to suicide. Neither is particularly healthy, but if you insist that somebody needs to die, I think the stronger choice would be killing your torturer rather than allowing him to kill you by your own hand.
Now, since our society condemns revenge killings and our state has a monopoly on capital punishment, it’s probably a bad idea to actually try murdering the bastard. I think you know this.
So, what to do? Well, I suggest you turn this sordid situation into a deeply satisfying creative outlet.
Plan his murder. Plan several of his murders. Be elaborate and outlandish. Design all kinds of devious and detailed ways to kill this motherfucker. Let each scenario become a chapter in a book and write, write, write.
Get the poison out on paper. After all, revenge fantasies are far more delicious than actual revenge.
Besides, I know you’re a writer. Hell, you used a semicolon in a parenthetical statement. You’ve got a book in you for sure, especially on the subject matter of ending that sick fuck’s life.
I think you’ll enjoy the process, and who knows? You could end up on Oprah’s sofa with a bestseller in your lap.