I get the "ass-handers award" for getting my ass handed to me for the fourth straight time in three months. I would have liked to have served some ass, but it seems as though the brain, through demon liquor, has thwarted me at that endeavor.
Despite my obvious loss of debating faculties, or the other person's ability to appeal to pathos so eloquently as to render me devoid of any sort of response, I still feel better. I know that anything I do regarding this person will anger them. I know that when they think of me, they will be angry. Not the way I would have liked, but still, anger is anger.
And I can live with anger. I can't live with abject silence. There is too much potential in silence that it drives me insane with possibilities.
P.S. I learned how to lace and tie a corset today.
Despite my obvious loss of debating faculties, or the other person's ability to appeal to pathos so eloquently as to render me devoid of any sort of response, I still feel better. I know that anything I do regarding this person will anger them. I know that when they think of me, they will be angry. Not the way I would have liked, but still, anger is anger.
And I can live with anger. I can't live with abject silence. There is too much potential in silence that it drives me insane with possibilities.
P.S. I learned how to lace and tie a corset today.
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Also, if something belongs in another section, how do we move it?
I'm not going to touch anything until you tell me how not to fuck up.