Betrayal: A taste that lingers

Betrayal—the taste is always sour, isn’t it? And it cuts the deepest when it comes from those you trusted the most. That’s why it hurts—because only those close to you have the power to wound like that.

History’s greatest figures weren’t immune to it either: Caesar, Jesus, Alexander, Kattabomman, Gandhi, Kulothungan, Draupadhi, —the list goes on.

 

Even in modern times, betrayal wears different masks. Physicians, for instance, sometimes leave you feeling let down too. Take a recent encounter of mine—when I asked a doctor to check my temperature, he used the age-old “grandma method,” placing his hand on my forehead. In a world of advancements, it felt like a betrayal of my expectations, courtesy of what I’d call the “Corona-season-tutored generation.”

 

But enough about that.
Let me ask you, dear readers: How do you handle betrayal? Do you forgive and move on, risking your self-respect? Or do you stand your ground?

Personally, I’m too self-obsessed to bend that way.

 

So, I chose to embrace the sour.

My journey tasted like sweat and hard work, solitude and self-discovery, sleepless nights, pillow-soaked tears, learning to shut people out, and endless solo travels.

All this, so a new version of me could emerge. And while the transformation is nearly complete, the sting of betrayal still feels fresh—still sour.

 

Rage simmers under the surface. But what can you do with all that fire? Let’s entertain the witchy side, shall we? Is spellwork an option? After all, witches were never the enemy—perhaps they’re here to keep the balance.

 

So here I am, casting my spell:

 

                  Cue the evil laugh: Buhahaha!

 

What about you? How do you deal with betrayal?