On the Fence

I have a confession.

Turns out, I actually am human and occasionally vulnerable to behavior unbecoming of a lady (stop laughing).

My energy level was low last night. I knew it going in - it'd been low all day - but I went ahead and went out anyway because, well, it was Synapse playing and lots of people I know and love were going to be there. Two drinks in though, I leaned over to Acr0nym and said, "I am really not having a good time."

So it shouldn't have been any surprise when the night turned on me...that's code for feeling mean. And oh my yes was I ever feeling mean and snarky and contemptuous and small in emotional scope. The acid tongue came lashing out and, while I didn't say anything directly to the object of my ball o' hate, I am decidedly unimpressed with myself today.

Because I'm a much better person than that. To allow my hurt feelings to come gushing out in the form of a particular brand of catty, superficial venom.

And yet...it kinda felt good too.

Sometimes it feels good to feel stabby. To feel human. To let my hair down and let myself not be perfect or particularly kind...especially when there wasn't any kindness offered to me which is how I got to this nowhere Smallville town to begin with.

And maybe, just maybe, being OK about feeling this way will help me to stop beating myself to a bloody emotional pulp and push past it.

And that's me, standing on the fence, walking it, waiting to see on which side I'll fall.