The Forty-Year Search for My Twelve-Year-Old Bully
by Allen Kurzweil
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What’s the use of getting over things? Wrongs have been perpetrated: assaults on your dignity, your self-image, your fragile well-being. And they’ve gotten away with it—they’re reveling (no doubt prospering), smug in their galling impunity, probably laughing at you even now. Bullies, critics, snobs, the so-called friend who slept with your one true love in college and has now tried to friend you on Facebook as though it never happened. Shitty parents, lecherous mentors, crappy former spouses: It’s a world of assholes out there. Fuck them all.
Consider the festering wound. Especially if you’re a writer: Consider it as the raw material for your next book, for an entire oeuvre, even. Moving on may be better for your mental health and digestive tract—so say wusses and forgiveniks—but your wounds are who you are.
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