Emotions ran high last night on Twitter; higher than I’ve ever seen them. The topic being discussed was an extremely sensitive one, and hash was slung all over the map by all sides. I was not immune to the fray; I threw my own mighty insistent two cents into the ring for several hours straight – but more on that in a another post. There’s something I’d like to address first:
It’s been a really, really long time since anyone has called me a whore.
I finally lost it last night, and snapped – before I was really aware of what I was doing, #0<1>:Dark Angel #169] came out with fists a-swingin’, and I unleashed something I’ve not let loose for many years: my temper, my way with words, and some devastatingly accurate, barbed observations delivered in a volley of perfect grammar and timing.
When the smoke had cleared, I was a jumble of emotions: 20% annoyed with myself (I shouldn’t have stooped to that level), 45% triumphant (take that!), 5% chagrined (I wish I hadn’t called her a cunt; I love cunts), 30% ready for round two (damn, it feels good to be a gangsta), 20% amused (this is hilarious!), and 100% bad at math. I’m only human, and everyone has their breaking point – last night mine was hit, and the end result was .. all that. I probably lost some e-face, but it felt really good to let loose and say my piece. I was tired of the shit being spread behind my back. If you can say you wouldn’t have done the same, then you are a better person than I.
And in the end, the silence was broken only by the sound of his best friend’s zipper.