i don’t want to heal, i want revenge
the concept of being an angsty teenage girl and feeling like the Final Girl
When I was a young whipper snapper, I had such a fiery spirit. It took almost nothing to get me going - politics, boys, shitty friends - you name it, I was pissed at it.
Year after year, I seemed to have an abundance of bad friends. To my teenage mind, these people wanted me dead. Perhaps, I was an easy target. I was overweight, a people pleaser with an obvious and desperate need to be liked. I didn’t really understand how to make friends, so I lurked in the periphery and attracted the company of a lot of oddballs.
Being fourteen and fifteen, it always seems like your life is teetering on the edge of mass destruction. Boys would befriend me and I thought they liked me. And then Oh, No They Did Not. I often felt blindsided, but perhaps, I was just blind. And every other time after that, I swore it would be the last time I cared (it never was).
Patterns form - Boy Was Nice To Me, Oh, maybe this one likes me like that. He Liked The Attention and Not You. Rinse. Cry. Redefine my self-worth. Repeat.
As an adult, none of this matters in the Big Picture of my life. Boys lied and I cried. More news at 11.
However, to deny that these instances didn’t completely rewire my brain would be a lie. And a liar I am not.
Twelve-year-old me - unseen and unheard. Extremely shy. Extremely lonely. Volatile home life and emotionally absent mother. Sometimes present father.
Oh, boy - did she have a fire in her belly! Calling people names is unkind. Perhaps being reminded that my weight is why I didn’t have a boyfriend was earned (at twelve, no less). Public humiliation stings, man. Seventh grade is already a pivotal moment of shittiness. A boy I had a crush on telling everyone that I was fat was devastating.
Let’s play a round of what I liked to call: What’s worse?
A. The guy you liked telling you that you didn’t have a boyfriend because you were fat. Thus, confirming your fear. (Ironically, all he dates are obese women now)
B. Your friend becoming best friends with boy from A and swearing up and down that she did not like him and that you are paranoid.
C. Your friend dating the guy she knew you liked and even when you tried to accept your L with grace, she painted you as angry and jealous!
D. Being borderline harassed and followed around because you’re such a great conversationalist but when you show even a shred of interest (god forbid) they Never Saw You That Way.
And then no one ever wants to hear you out. No one can make room for your pain. It can always be Justified or Explained Away. They never Meant It That Way. You’re Overreacting. So the sting gets buried real deep and I kick sand over it. I practice graciousness. Kindness. And I hope time heals all wounds.
This is likely why I always held a special place in my storm for rage.
I love angry, complex female leads. Someone crosses you? Kill em. They harmed your family? Stole from you? Framed you? Kill em!
Beatrix Kiddo, Amy Dunne, Cataleya Restrepo, Furiosa - their rage - I feel it in my bones. I worship the powerful and the feminine because those are things I was never allowed to be. It was always taught that I must be able to forgive. I fantasized of physical fights and screaming matches. I fantasized of vindication - I HAVE A RIGHT TO HATE YOU!
That fire has burnt out over the years. It smolders at best. I just silently collect my resentment, make my notes and update my databases. Standing up for yourself requires a certain level of character I’m not sure I have ever possessed. It’s saying - I am here and I am not afraid.
Maintaining the anger is too much effort, so I let it dissipate. What matters is what exists underneath. And that’s hurt. It’s sadness. Anguish. Confusion. What have I done to deserve the hand I’ve been dealt? Surely, I am Good. I behave. I do what I am told. And yet, I’m punished.
The easiest truth to accept - it is just the way it is. Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes good. And then you move.
If this cracked something open in you, good. Me too.
💌 Find more essays like this under Girl on the Verge or Woman on the Cusp.
🌀 Start here if you’re new or just lost and spiraling gently.