January 27, 2008

Jealousy is a fucker.  It destroys what was good.  Consumed by anger and frustration, I targeted you, hated you for what you were good at, for what you naturally were. 


There were grounds for criticism, there always are.  Any private individual is a mass of contradictions, impulses and needs, these do not fit neatly into the rigidity of etiquette.  Targeting goes beyond that.  There is something under it.  It has nothing to do with the petty gripes one uses as justification, it is more to do with a personal vendetta.  That’s what I was carrying out.


When you raised that gripe with me, I put on my debating gloves straight on and boxed you.  I had no right to do it.  That didn’t matter.  What mattered was, it was a battle, straight away.  I love the heat of battle, the cut and thrust. 


That I scored points damaged you, which was not what I wanted.  I only want to play.  But we are no longer cubs, there is weight behind our paws now and besides, you had a genuine case.  I was inconsiderate then.  That I am lightning quick with an excuse and a dodge, that I fence you off verbally easily enough, does not mean that I am right, or had a right, even, to do it. 


I can only offer true apology in the cold light of morning, a morning wherein I realise much about myself and my myriad flaws.  

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