angry doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that took over my mind body and soul that night.  it was probably closer to rage.  a burning rage of hurt is more like it. i was red lining. smoked myself through a packet and half of winfield light blues and shaking from anxiety and the 5 energy drinks i had consumed in 2 hours.  i was sitting at a house party not really listening to the idle conversations around me. pretty sure nelly’s “hot in ‘erre” was playing on the speakers. i hate nelly.

“how could he do this to me?” (again) “how could i be so stupid?” (again) “what the f*ck is wrong with me?” “what does she have that i don’t?”

thoughts running around on repeat in my mind.  with each question i felt my chest get heavier and heavier. the ciggies i was chain smoking only added to my discomfort.

i was weak. i had allowed this to happen to me. how did i get here?

more importantly when did i subconsciously give this person permission to do this to me?

i’m not a violent person but i wanted to do violent things. i wanted him to hurt. just a little bit. just a smidgen of what i was going through.

i devoted myself for months being his secret bae. i had no real reason to be angry we weren’t technically a couple. so i had no leg to stand on. i was in the situation i was in because i let it happen.

i opened the fridge as the drunken party goers stumbled past me and i stared aimlessly into the fridge.

egg his car.


egg his car?

he deserves it.


he hurt you.

6 minutes later i have a carton of eggs and car keys in my hand.

i turned to my best friend.

“we’re going.”


“to egg X’s car.”


big inhale of my 36th cigarette of the day. “yup”

“about time.”

driving to his house took moments. in reality in probably took longer. “what are you doing?” “getting him back.”

before i knew it we were in the carpark of his apartment block.

“we’re here.”

i froze. i couldn’t go through with it. what was i doin? this isn’t me? i’m not vengeful. i’m not spiteful.  it hurt so bad though. like someone had taken a knife and was repeatedly dragged it across my chest. i wanted to back out. i didn’t want to do it.

my friends took over. they got out. they were my egging subbies carrying out the mission when i couldn’t go any further.  the sounds of the large farm laid eggs smashing against his car brought such an odd sensation over me. what i thought would make me feel better and bring justice to the wrongs he had done actually did nothing.

i laughed on the outside as my friends and i hightailed it out the carpark but on the inside nothing had changed. so what if he was late to work because he had to wash the car. a minor inconvenience for him really in the grand scheme of things.

the inconvenience of my broken heart was all me. i had allowed it to get this far.  i didn’t walk away.

owning up to the part that i played in the unofficial relationship was a very hard pill to swallow. accepting my part does not excuse him but allows me to regain my power.

when i think about it now i know i can’t take it back. would i have acted differently knowing what i know now about life and how our thoughts create things? possibly.

its all choice.

angela bassett torched a car in waiting to exhale so egging on the scale of crimes is quite low compared that. even to the tales some of my clients tell me. we giggle. we learn. we move on.

we change our thoughts.




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