drop extract / entry III

grace as revenge

the art of perspective and becoming untouchable

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revenge has a sharp reputation.

people picture blood. fire. the final word.

but the most effective kind of revenge isn’t loud. it’s not messy. it’s not even obvious.

it’s internal.

abstract.

untouchable.

it’s in the way you grow past the version of yourself that would’ve wasted time proving a point.

it’s in the way you master your reaction. in the way you smile anyway. walk away anyway.

build the life anyway

true revenge?

it’s the art of becoming so focused on your own evolution that the need for retaliation dissolves into irrelevance.

and it starts with perspective.

because the power of perspective is this: it softens the edges of the world without making you weak.

someone cuts you off in traffic.

maybe their kid is sick in the backseat.

your coffee order is wrong.

maybe it’s her first day, and she cried in the bathroom between shifts.

someone’s rude to you at the register.

maybe they’re in physical pain and don’t know how to explain it.

or maybe they’re just having a bad day, and for once, it’s not about you.

this mindset doesn’t excuse behavior.

but it expands your capacity to choose a better response.

to recognize that grace is a form of control.

and that kindness, when you don’t owe it, is one of the most radical expressions of power.

because while someone else stays stuck in a cycle of bitterness or projection,

you’re already somewhere else.

refining your art. your thoughts. your world.

the power of abstract perspective is that it opens doors other people don’t even know exist.

it shifts your energy without asking permission.

it turns setbacks into subtle blueprints for growth.

and it teaches you how to see what others miss.

this week, try this:

respond with grace where you normally wouldn’t

not because they deserve it, but because you do.

because you're done leaking energy on things that don’t evolve you.

because there’s something deeply poetic about choosing peace in a world that expects chaos.

this is what it means to win without shouting.

to move in silence and let your character speak louder than your clapbacks ever could.

revenge doesn’t have to be violent.

sometimes, it looks like healing.

xx,

LB

song of the post ✴︎

You Don't Own Me by Lesley Gore

Lesley’s delivery is ice and elegance. It’s not begging to be heard—it’s a warning disguised as melody. This isn’t about ego. It’s about knowing your worth so deeply, silence becomes your sharpest weapon.