Why I Can’t Heal Until My Enemies Suffer

The truth?
I would’ve healed.
I tried. I swear.
I did the gratitude journal.
I even wrote their name and burnt it with camphor, just like that one babe on TikTok said.
But every time peace starts loading… I see them smiling. Thriving. Winning.
Suddenly my chest gets tight.

And I know in my soul: God is not fair.

“Be the Bigger Person” — Why? So They Can Spit on Me From Above?

Let me tell you about Kemi.

My ex-best friend. Sister in Christ. Keeper of my secrets.
We wrote JAMB together. Dreamed together.
Until one day she introduced me to her cousin who “needed help with his CV.”
He didn’t need help. He needed a body count.
And apparently, she volunteered mine.

Fast forward: he ghosted me after three months, she said, “You’re overreacting,” and I found out they’d been dating on the low.
Today, they’re married.
And I’m the cautionary tale in her love story.
She tells people: “I knew he was the one when I almost lost my best friend.”

I didn’t lose her. She sacrificed me.
And I’m supposed to “wish them well”?

I’m Not Angry. I’m Just Remembering with Emotion.

You see, healing culture makes you feel insane for still being hurt.
“Let it go,” they say.
“Bitterness ages you.”
As if betrayal doesn’t do worse.
As if I haven’t lost more than time.

Let’s talk about the actual damage:

• I now apologize before sharing joy, because I fear envy in people I love.
• I don’t trust compliments. I hear them and think: what do you want?
• I stopped dreaming out loud. Because once, my dreams were stolen, rebranded, and pitched at an accelerator I couldn’t afford to attend.

People say “don’t let it change you.”
But it did change me.
And pretending otherwise is another way I betray myself.

When My Ex Started Winning, My Healing Reset to Factory Settings

There was a day I genuinely thought I had moved on.
Then I saw my ex on YouTube, giving a TEDx talk on “How to Love A Broken Woman.”
Sir, you were the reason she broke.
You.

He had his beard lined, his voice smooth, and the entire comments section calling him “a real one.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The man who gaslit me into therapy is now profiting off the same empathy I had to earn by surviving him.

So no, I haven’t healed.
Not until his followers see the receipts.
Not until someone yells “YOU LIED” in the comment section.

Emotional Justice: A Love Language

I don’t need them to die. I just want the scales to balance. I want my name cleared in every room I was slandered in.

I want that wicked aunty to get food poisoning twice. Once gently, once dramatically.
I want the lecturer who told me “you can’t pass my course unless you sit on my laps” to get audited, exposed, and left to rot in an admin suspension no one mourns.

I want every person who mocked my struggle, downplayed my pain, or called me “too sensitive” to have to watch me win in a room they can’t afford to enter.

Then

Will heal.
Promise. Olorun.

We’re Not Mad. We’re Just Not Done Yet.

You see, Crackko isn’t here to judge your rage.
We’re here to tell the truth.

Some of us aren’t healing because there’s no closure.
No apology.
No justice.
Just vibes, betrayal, and motivational quotes from the same people who hurt us.

You call it revenge.
We call it restoration.
You say “be kind.”
We say, “be honest.”
You want peace? Cool.
But we want balance.

Let the world keep romanticizing forgiveness.
But here at Crackko, we know what it means to carry pain with poise.
We know what it’s like to say “I’m over it” while your stomach burns at the sight of their joy.
So say it with your chest:

“I can’t heal until my enemies suffer.”
Not because you’re weak —
But because your story deserves a different ending.

And until then?
You’re not the villain.
You’re just the unfinished chapter.

Clock it. Respectfully, Crackko.