F.U.

I’ve never been a violent person. Profanity (or more so silence) I’ve always chosen over whatever my fists could ever muster.

I’ve never been punched—at least not to my recollection. But I’m not including punches thrown before the age of 10.

And I don’t think I really ever felt like actually throwing one myself. Anger is a familiar emotion but violence is an alien manifestation…

.........................until yesterday.

And to think I’ve never met this person. And to think I’ve tried so hard to convince myself that this asswipe was likeable.

I suppose I’ve been looking for any reason to hate this guy for the longest time. But never did I expect the impulse to want to punch the daylights out of the motherfucker.

You can never quantify someone’s effect on you until you realize that the person (or in this case, someone associated to the person) can make you want to do things beyond your normal character.

I realized this yesterday.

But still, impulse is one thing irritants called “maturity” and “self-control” can overcome.

In this particular case, distance was also an irritant.

So for now, I’m just going to be myself and merely leave it at a raised middle finger and heartfelt “FUCK YOU!”