Whew! I initially read the topic line as, “Do you have any blood enemas.” This thread is therefore far less disturbing than I thought it would be.
Let it go people! Your anger and hatred for people who you are no longer around only causes you pain and anxiety. Forgive and forget, it’s saner and healthier.
Except for the scum that replaced the hour of the Simpsons at 6:00 with Friends and (ugh) Will and Grace. One day… One lovely day, that individual will pay for what they’ve done.
An ex-boss. I actually walked out one morning, with every intention of never returning - the higher-ups persuaded me to stay by reassigning me away from him. I still have happy fanatasies of finding him near death after a car wreck, and having the complete power to determine whether he lives or dies. (I’d do everything to save him, in no small part because I’d like him to be indebted to me for the rest of his life.)
There was also a girl in junior high who made my life a living hell. Tammy, I hope to hell somebody really did get you pregnant as a teenager, as you claimed in a midnight phone call to my parents when I was 12.
My former sister-in-law would push me in front of the subway, but the animosity isn’t mutual. My feelings about her are neutral - wouldn’t avoid her, but then I wouldn’t have to - she’d avoid me. On the other hand, I might “make nice” to her if we met at a family occasion just to watch her try to maintain her air of superiority.
I can still count them on one hand and have fingers left over, but they are there. They lie in wait until I screw up (in their opinion) bad enough to be bound to that witch’s stake ready for the fire, while I wait until they show to the world what wretches they truly are (preferably with some assistance in that direction from me), and then they begin their own, disasterously public, fall.
The ways of the bloodfeud, it would seem, are not yet dead by any stretch of the imagination in my hometown.
I have one. He wouldn’t push me in front of a train; in fact he’d probably try to save me, hoping I’d forgive him. I would smile gratefully…
…and throw him in front of the train, with my only regret being that I had shortened his misery by a few years.
He tried to reconcile a few times over the years. But his actions make clear that he’s not sorry for what he did; he’s sorry he got caught. F***ing weasel.
Ex-supervisor at a crisis line. I got fired over a shift I never agreed to work, even as the woman whose shift it was tried repeatedly to explain that I’d never agreed to it. I occasionally still wonder what would have happened if I had gone over her boss’s head to ask about the agency’s policy about the writing of names on the shift sign-up sheet, because someone else had put my name down. If the sheet wasn’t legally binding, it was just a mix-up that should have been cleared up easily. If the sheet was legally binding and they accepted someone else writing my name on the sheet as binding, then they accepted a forged document.
Early in the summer, someone who later IDed him or her self as “someone from the SDMB” visited my livejournal and decided I cried out for inane psuedo-wisdom. Though he or she was willing to speculate on my career qualifications, family life and world view, he or she wasn’t willing to leave a name. I still count this person as an enemy, though it’s not without some affection, because I had great fun in replying.