Bully

I once heard that there are three versions of every story people tell - your side, the other person's side, and the truth. So far, in something of an issue in college, going back to the Facebook events I've mentioned before, and  the problems they've caused, I've heard a couple of different stories regarding one thing in particular: the Book.

The Book began it all. It was because of the Book that I received abuse a couple of weeks ago, and because of the Book that that same person approached me on Thursday to issue a threat to report me for bullying. He told me why he was going to report me, and I later asked somebody else about the event, and what I have learned is that one of those people is lying, and I don't think it was the person I asked - she had nothing to gain from lying, whereas he had the removal of the Book from the college, and ultimately nothing to show that he was over-reacting to something entirely.

His Version:
He was in the computer room and people were talking about the Book, saying it was "about" people in the college. He interpreted this as those people having read the Book. The Book was "in circulation".

The Other Version:
My friend, to whom I loaned the Book so she could better understand what his problem was, was having lunch with the very same people who were talking in the computer room. They saw the Book, said he told them that the Book was "about" people in college, and then they asked to read it. She said no, put it in her bag and later left it in her house. She has not read the Book. 

My Deduction:
He believes I'm trying to make him look bad.

My Version:
I loaned the Book to my friend so she could understand things better - I repeat this point because it's important. However, I loaned her the Book in the full knowledge that she understands that the Book is based loosely on things that happened in the college, that I happened by mistake to write somewhat accurately in a couple of cases, and that this guy was reading too much into the character in the first draft of the Book.

And why do I emphasise that it's a first draft? Because, as every writer knows, first drafts are rarely anything like the finished product. I do plan to change this Book, and not because it got one person upset. It was initially a writing project, something to just work on, to get a story out of, and it has yet to become what I intend it to be - a proper book. For a start, I did intend on changing the plot that focuses around the character to whom this guy relates - at the moment, he thinks it makes him look like an asshole. The character is an asshole, I won't lie about that, but that's because the Book, in its simplest form, does not work without him being like that. Cause and Effect reason that if he was a typical good guy in the Book, the events would have been different, and the one of the other characters loses some of her focus in the plot - she becomes a secondary character if there is no one to complicate things for her.

I plan on fleshing out the Book a bit. For a start, there's a bit more truth that works in the Book - time and time again, she keeps going back to him. But she has to be somewhere for her to go back.

I don't even know if he read the whole Book or if he just read the parts that he thought had to do with him. But I do know that I never intended for him to read that version of the Book. It's an unfinished product, raw and untamed and frankly a little out of my control. That he thinks the Book is "in circulation" is, lets me honest, a little ridiculous. Nevermind the fact that only two physical copies exist - the one I loaned to my friend and the one he practically stole from another friend after I gave it to her for her birthday - I just don't feel comfortable passing around my books like they're nothing. I choose who reads my books quite carefully; if someone's my friend and if I think they'd be interested or if they express direct interest in a book, I let them - and sometimes ask them - to read it. I don't just pass around my books to anybody. I certainly don't pass around books that are neither finished nor appropriate nor what I want people to read.

The accusation that I am a bully is just horrendous. I didn't do anything to directly offend him. Sure, that didn't exactly work to plan since he took the Book and interpreted it the way he did, but that was because he went behind my back to "borrow" a copy (for a day, I'm told... and that was in November and he still has it!). The person I gave it to for her birthday had already read the Book; she knew what it was all about, because she'd told me some of the stories. I asked her to read it so that I would know if she thought it was okay with me revealing some of the emotions she said she felt. The sentimentality of the Book was what was important for me and for her as a present.

The person I loaned the Book to said she won't read it until and only if he thinks it's okay that she does. So far, no one knows what actually happens in the Book and he mistook the eagerness of two people he told about the Book as it being passed around the college like a piece of juicy gossip. I was purposely avoiding that scenario by abandoning any plans to work on the Book and self-publish it through Lulu.com after the Christmas break. If I wanted people to read it I'd just email it to the whole college. That would be the Book in circulation. And it would be entirely against what I wanted. (And, just to note, the only reason I had for wanting to self-publish the Book was to try earn a little bit of money from it, not to tarnish the reputation of someone who is now doing that all by himself).

And, finally, take into account his own malice towards me, publicly too. I reckon that no one can take up a bullying case after that. I have a PDF of the whole conversation printed, in case he decides he's finally going to delete it, so he can't deny what he said - it was cruel and entirely unnecessary, and seems to have only been to get to me. And it did get to me. A lot. I'm not going to pretend that he didn't get to me with that, like I'm not going to pretend that I wasn't phased by his threat, until I learned the back-story to what had happened.

This person is a bully. He's a bully and he's trying to hide that fact by making the accusation of someone else. The simple fact of the matter is that he read something that was private, interpreted this as being public the very moment a second copy of the Book showed up, and then decided to take action, seemingly forgetting the way he treated me - the abuse and the snide grins every time he saw me because he knew he'd gotten to me. I say all this, but I keep his name private. I don't plan on doing something to him that could ruin his whole life. I don't have the same vicious conviction to hurt as he does. He just has to grow up and realise that this whole thing isn't about him, that the Book isn't about him, but that the problem is because of him disrespecting his friend by not giving back something he "borrowed", despite her asking for it back, and all in malice. That was my mistake, though - thinking that someone would be decent enough to give back a birthday present they had no right to even take in the first place, and assuming that because he never took the opportunity to talk to me about the Book face to face as an adult, if it upset him that much, that he had no problem with it. He had plenty of opportunities to talk to me alone, and he never took them.

And apparently that makes me a bully. Go figure.

Review - All My Friends Are Superheroes

I love subtle and simple titles, don't you? I also love titles like this one, where it's everything but subtle and anything but simple, and I'm sure that every time I tell people what book I read they just look at me like I'm a mad fool (this is just proof of that, mind you). The book in question, All My Friends Are Superheroes by Andrew Kaufman, delivers a simplistic story in a relatively short read, and it's as entertaining as the confused looks on people's faces when you tell them its title.

So, are all his friends superheroes?
Considering the fact that he was a nobody before he was a friend of every superhero in the city, yes. His friends are superheroes - by some definition - and his wife is a superhero and he's... well, he's invisible. To her. By no fault or cause of his own.

Okay, what? "By some definition"? What does that even mean?
Well... not all of them are especially "super". Some of them have powers that we would deem to be an ordinary skill. Almost all of the anecdotal descriptions of them - of which there are many - are highly entertaining nuggets of wit and imagination. And while the superheroes are quite a big part of the story, you don't need to be a comic book fan to appreciate the wonderfulness of their "powers" and how they contribute to the madness that is the protagonist's life.

Riiiight. And he's invisible to his wife?
Yeah, she was made to not notice his existence. She's called The Perfectionist. Anything she touches becomes instantly perfect. As the story begins, she's getting ready to start a new life in a city that will become perfect by her very presence, and so she can get over her husband's disappearance. He has the duration of the flight to figure out how to convince her he exists, or he loses everything he holds dear.

And that's what the book is about?
Books aren't "about" anything, but if they were, this one wouldn't be "about" a man proving his existence to his wife, or "about" a bunch of superheroes with powers that are questionably and variably super. This book is "about" love, undying and heart-wrenching and life-changing love, and how losing love can cause you to lose everything else, and how silent appreciation of someone is love and taking up smoking because someone's gone is love and following someone unbeknownst to them across the country trying to prove you exist is love, and everything else in between, all the hurt and all the joy and all the jealousy and the troubles are love. And this book is all "about" love.

So wait... what's the target demographic?
I would say anyone who likes quick and delightful reads, anyone who can appreciate the many unique powers that Kaufman can create, stories about love, stories about loss, stories that centre around characters and people, and people who appreciate and/or love any combination of the above, as well as many other things I probably missed out on. It's a wonderful book and possibly the most diverse and universal book I've reviewed; it's not complicated or too specific to genre, not overly literary, or any other complaints that might arise from readers about books. It is, quite simpl, a subtle delight, without the subtle and simple title!

Fear and Other Things

So I have a theory which I am presupposing is accurate - people are afraid of following their dreams. Not everyone, but a lot of people, myself included. I was thinking about it on the way home from college, a book in a folder in my hand and the sun making me regret wearing my big green coat that really just killed me towards the end of the day. I wrote the book over two years ago. I have done no work on the book in about eight months. In that time I wrote three somewhat good novellas - they have potential, but they're nowhere near what I'd like them to be - and I started at least three other books that never got further than a few thousand words. But I haven't done what's important towards getting published, and that's finishing this one really important book.

The fear, I suppose, is that if I got published and if I'm to believe a friend that it'll make me "millions", my whole life would change. I would lose that drive to finish my college course, and maybe I'd become so involved in my own newly developing world that I'd give up all the people I care about. It's not uncommon for me to drift from social group to social group, to sometimes become entirely self-involved (without rubbing my existence in anyone's face, mind you, just not paying entirely enough attention to everyone else). It's my nature to become distracted by new and shiny things, and I worry (maybe that's the wrong word) that if I ever got anywhere I wanted to I'd leave behind the foundations of that life and lose the people I cared about because I stopped paying attention for just a bit too long.

I think that fear stems from my misunderstanding of people, jumbled up with the aforementioned self-involvement. It's as if, sometimes, if I annoy someone or if I don't talk to them, that I'll just slip too far away from them to matter anymore, as if my parting in one way or another matters so much that I won't get back. So, if I got published, if I became successful, then I'd be leaving behind the people I care about; not in spite, not in anger or because of an argument, but because I'd have to focus so much on doing something that's important to me, and this new and shiny adventure I'm on would bypass any need to keep in touch with people.

And I have the same fear that once people get over their own inhibitions or the obstacles set up by other people on their lives that maybe I'd be all forgotten about, or worse that I am one of the obstacles in their way and I'd have to give up one of my friends for them to be happy. I assume the absolute worst, sometimes, and I cannot help that, particularly if I get caught in some sort of downward spiral, and sometimes that feeling of being an obstacle just doesn't go away.

This fear I have, this multitude of fears that I have, is something I am sure that lots of people go through. It's why we procrastinate, is it not? It's why people don't study even when they want to do well, because it's like if they apply themselves then everything will change. Or worse: they don't think they're good enough, regardless of whether or not they study. I was like that. I know I could have done better in my Leaving Certificate, but I didn't do the work. That's my own fault, but it was fear of under-succeeding that got to me, and the fear that everything would change after the exams.

But there is the truth - things have to change. In the exam situation, whether you pass or fail subjects, things will change anyway. Everything changes, though not immediately, and what many people, myself included, sometimes fail to realise is that it's up to us to decide how our lives should change. While I don't encourage cutting people loose from your life, I do suggest that people do something selfish, do something for themselves, something that will make them, and them alone, happy. Whether it's going for that job they don't think they deserve, finishing the book and submitting it to a publisher or anything else that won't directly hurt someone (because obviously if you get the job or if you get published, it can significantly reduce the chances that someone else will get the same benefits... but remember: this is about you!), people ought to chase their dreams, big or small.

It's impossible to be completely released from our inhibitions, but we can sure as heck make an effort to overcome the challenges that hold us back. At the risk of being preachy (oh, too late),I'm going to finish by saying that people need to take control of their own lives. We don't have to do everything our parents want from us - such as becoming a teacher after doing this course I'm in  rather than pursuing some other career - and we don't have to be held back by their decisions about something that we disagree with entirely, that affect us negatively. If you want to go to college against their wishes, pay for it yourself. Find your passion and live it, be happy, and the rest will work out around it.

And when you get scared, what then?

I talk about it. Not always quite so publicly as this, but to a close friend. I imagined most of this being said to a friend without him being able to respond because it let me get things straight in my head, but really this isn't something I think I could have said to him - whether he was sober or drunk and calling at three in the morning - because I wouldn't have been able to put the words right out loud for fear of sounding like I was trying to take control of his life of have him make my decisions for me. But that's just me - I'm a complicated individual. But talking about fear, talking about the things that hold us back, is the first step towards overcoming those obstacles so we can get on with the race.

That was preachy, wasn't it? Sure, what about it? Live your life, live your dreams, be yourself and get over your fears. And do as I say, not as I do, because odds are I won't follow my own advice, whether it's good or bad.

Existential Crisis Averted

The past couple of weeks have been odd. Well, I've been odd these past couple of weeks, and by proxy the weeks have been odd.

I wrote, earlier this week, about chores and moaning a lot about having to do them, and - really - I understand that chores have to be done. I just didn't like the idea that all my spare time was being filled up with the never-ending list of things that parents seem to have for their children to do when they're not attending some form of educational institution and/or working, and looking ahead into the future I saw three and half months of that same never-ending list and I thought, "Is this really what my life is going to be like? Am I really going to be cleaning up dirty dishes for the rest of my life? I didn't even touch half the food that was made on these." That last one's true - lots of different dinners get made in my house, and from time to time you end up having to clean up someone else's mess, and everyone in the house moans about it.

But I get it - chores have to be done. The whole background to the moaning that most people failed to see (because they read the post, not my response to a comment left on it) was that I was having a sort of existential crisis these past couple of weeks. Some friends of mine can attest to me freaking out over some stuff that happened, and one alone can tell you - but he won't - about one of the biggest problems I was having in my life. Basically, I didn't feel I could write for the rest of my life. I was feeling miserable (and not because of the chores - this was to the do with the case in my post "Let it Slide") and things turned out getting worse and worse in my head. I lost the will to create anything.

That's over now. Long conversations in the middle of the morning have that effect on me, when it was a sort of lack of them in a pretty boring and often horrible week that drained me of everything positive. But I feel like I'm back to what I would commonly refer to as "normal", though the word itself is just a concept of humanity that works along the lines of conformity. I attest against conformity for conformity's sake; I understand that people can be similar, but if they try to be similar, then that's just wrong. That's changing for the sake of changing someone's opinion of you, not changing for the sake of improving yourself in your own eyes (the often groaned-upon phrase "Be the best you you can be" comes to mind).

I digress. I'm back to planning writing stuff. I have ideas whizzing about in my head and I've set myself a deadline for getting some stuff done. A lot of the work will be done in the summer months, when I have a lot of time off from studies and I'll most likely not get extra hours in work (books sell better in the airport alone during the summer months - high-street stores don't see huge boosts in sales except around Christmas). I'll be working on other things aside from a number of book-ideas I have in mind, but mainly I'll be writing fiction (to the max!) I'm determined to not let this summer be either (a) a repeat of last summer (boring and somewhat miserable) or (b) a repeat of this week (boring and somewhat miserable and filled with endless tasks from my parents!).

I won't be disclosing the full nature of what I'm writing about throughout the summer, of course, unless something comes out of it. However, I can tell you that I'll be having lots of fun finishing some books that I've told some friends about (if you are a friend reading this and don't know what I'm talking about and are wondering why I never told you, it's because you did not ask or were not there when the idea for the book came to mind - it's nothing personal!). By the end of the summer, I want to have done some work on quite a few books (which includes editing some stuff I wrote last summer to remove some obvious connections to this thing we call "real life", because I see some potential in the stories, but I don't want to have to deal with people who think that references made to things they did are going to be so obvious to every single person living on this planet - there's this thing called fiction, I write it, and sometimes it's how I interpret facets of stories told to me so that you also get this thing called coincidence! Oh look, I made an obviously snide remark at one particular person on my blog, I wonder who that could be!)

On a side note, I'm noticing a lot of brackets popping up in this post. I don't blame the middle of the night call for this. No, I blame the fact that I was awake for some time before the call, and for a significantly shorter but increasingly more irate time after the call! My mind isn't working the way it should. It's in a strange place where brackets make sense, because there's too much to say coherently. Little points are just getting thrown into the middle of everything!

Back on track, then... yesterday was awesome. Okay, work wasn't. That was boring. We get those days, sometimes (and quite a lot lately). But I got my nerd stuff in the post (t-shirts and CDs and an Esther bracelet from DFTBA Records) and a couple of books which will be reviewed some Wednesday in the future after I've read them. And I went to see Paul in the cinema with some friends - still waiting to get my chance to pick my "birthday movie", since that was how I planned to "celebrate" my birthday with them - and it was awesome! It took me a while to get into it, but that was mainly from being in a mad mood beforehand. Laughed a lot though, as I got into it. And then there was the phone call, several hours later. Yes, there were periods throughout that day when I wanted to punch people and things (specific people, I might add), and when I got frustrated and/or upset, but I got through it all and now I'm hyperactive but tired!

Tomorrow will be a TV day, I think. Unless I decide to go on a writing spree. I would very much like that. I'll see where the day takes me. I may end up just reading a lot. I've been reading Everyman by Philip Roth (because I got a hardback copy of it second hand for relatively cheap and there's basically nothing wrong with it, and I'm sure one of my lecturers recommended him as a good author) and I'm enjoying it too much to want to wait until I'm too busy to read it.

Come Monday, I'll be kidnapping Miley Cyrus. We've had these plans for a while now, so it'll be fun to see what happens. If we end up in the city centre, I may be on the lookout for a new bag. There's nothing wrong with the one I have except I may need something a little bit bigger to bring in the A4 binder that contains Meet Sam. I want to continue my edits of it, and I don't think I want to risk my hands and/or arms carrying it in in my laptop bag (which I also use to carry my bible to God College as it is, so it gets a little heavy... especially when the library books start getting packed in there, too!). So, I may have a new bag. Or not. I don't yet know. It may be that I'll just get a handy folder with a handle to carry it in.

Things are looking up, anyway, after the boring misery that has been my "Reading Week". I suspect I would have wasted the week anyway, even if I hadn't been upset and aggravated on and by Saturday, but I wouldn't have been miserable doing nothing. And who knows, I may have actually be productive, which was what I planned before the World Suck that was my Saturday last week got to me.

I'm moaning again. This time I have a justifiable reason, I believe. I don't think people should be allowed to get away with making someone hate themselves for something that they did that didn't hurt anybody. I don't think those people should be allowed to think that it's okay to be like that with somebody, either, because then they may become what people call "repeat offenders", or what I call bullies. I don't think that people should have to see bad about themselves, period, nor do I believe that the people who feel bad about themselves can justify taking out their misery on those who brought it about through vengeful, hateful means that can ruin someone's life in one way or another (such as reporting a bully who is otherwise a good person to a disciplinary board after one offence). But I do think that it's okay to give out about bullies and haters so long as you don't name them, least of all publicly and with potential to a lot of strangers. Some people already know what happened on Saturday, others may be wondering what I'm talking about, but at the end of the (very long) day, I'm not going to point out someone on my blog as having insulted, offended and upset me intentionally and through spite, because then I'd not feel bad about when I'd calmed down (fairly calm at the moment, mind you), I'd be worse than the offender had been.

I'm moaning, I'm tired, but I hope I am at least coherent. On top of that, I hope my point makes sense logically. And I hope I don't come across as being spiteful. I'll be honest, I'm annoyed, angry even, but I don't plan on letting that anger consume me or hurt anyone. And I use the word hurt rather loosely - I don't mean I'm going to get physically violent (aside from my detestation of physical violence as a form of dealing with problems, I would most certainly lose this fight), rather I mean that I could potentially hurt someone (a) emotionally or (b) hurt his reputation directly (I understand and appreciate he was not happy with me when he acted the way he did, and that it was out of character - I don't forgive him, but I know he's not always like that) or (c) hurt his future by taking action that may result in his removal from the college.

Anyway, back to where I began - I was having an existential crisis, stemming from the person who I shall not name and shame and his actions on Saturday, and I have conquered it somewhat. I say somewhat, because I had the problem of identity before all this anyway. I have to thank some people, though I won't name them either, but to the people who listened when I had to talk about what was wrong, and to the friend who called me at three in the morning, thank you for being wonderful friends. You don't know how much you all mean to me.

Review - Coraline

Neil Gaiman - what a writer! Coraline is the third of his books that I've read (if you include the delightful picture book Crazy Hair), and I was not at all disappointed. I haven't seen the movie, though from the sounds of it it'd be just as maddening!

I'd bought it from a bargain basket at work after telling myself repeatedly that I ought to read more of his stuff, since I'd like Stardust so much when I read it. It was just sitting there, waiting to be read, and cheaper than I expected. So I went with it, read it at high-speed and loved every moment of it.

Um, what'd you mean "just as maddening"?
The premise of Coraline is that she gets stuck on the other side of a door, in a world where her parents have buttons for eyes and everything is too perfect. The world ends at the woods, when it comes a blank canvas. It's a fairly chilling read for a children's book, but not so frightening that I'd advise against it. As dark as it is, it maintains a message of hope and courage and doing things for other people, and reinforces an idea centred around loving your parents as they are.

How... lovely?
Okay, so that's the meaning I got from the book. I suppose it works better for kids to read the book than for people to just read that it's about that. The message comes across through Gaiman's narrative, his ability to put us inside the mind of Coraline - without going into first-person narrative - and the necessary conflict between good and evil that children's books of this type require.

So, how did it compare to similar books?
On a horror level, it's less scary than the likes of Mr Mumbles (much less scary.) In terms of ingenuity, they're on par with one another. What Coraline has that's different to everything else is the innocence of the character encased in her boldness; she's more ordinary than any other character I've encountered in a fantasy-type story. She doesn't act out for the sake of it, and she's not too loveable. She's written as a child who likes to explore, and she's written that way perfectly and innocently so that we love her as a result. I've never read a character like that. It helps, of course, that Gaiman's other characters are all adults who under-appreciate her, so we're straight away drawn towards the quirkiness of Coraline as she explores a new, backwards world. It's one of the most original and fascinating books I've ever read, even more bizarrely then that it's aimed at children of about eight to ten! This is a must read for them, if they like good stories, because it'll set a standard for stories that children of that age ought to acquire (so they don't then consider Twilight to be top-notch writing.)

Definitely read this one, whatever your age. You won't regret it. (I hope).

Three and a Half Months of THIS?

I'm on my midterm (or eh, "Reading Week") from God College at the moment and it occurs to me that summer is going to be boring. Very, very boring. My time off college had consisted of my usual weekend work in the shop, and cleaning my room. Yes, cleaning. I've had to rearrange my bookshelves again, after my parents went out and bought me a three-shelf Billy and two additional shelves to add in to my taller one, and the end result is that I have to get the books out of the bags they were in on my floor, rearrange everything according to size, so they all fit, and pretend I'm happy about having an hour's extra work on my shelves to do.

Have I done any writing? No. The energy and enthusiasm has been drained right out of me. I need something to do or I'm going to go mad. And I don't mean more hours in work - though the money would be good - because the work to do there isn't always great. I mean I have to find something active to do, or find the willpower and the necessary isolation from Mother of Mine so I can write something and maybe actually do something with my week off that doesn't conform to her standards of Regular Behaviour (i.e. cleaning the kitchen after everyone's mess, rearranging my shelves repeatedly, cleaning my desk even though I never use it anyway and waiting around for one of my uncles to collect a pot of stew).

I want to write. I want to write a book and edit another one, and do some reading for college and some reading for myself, and do my tutorial work, and get a chance to talk to my best friend properly. But no, none of that happens.

And this will be my summer, but instead of a week, it'll be three and a half months. I cannot take it anymore. It's only Tuesday and I'm bored out of my mind! I've only had one full day off since my "Reading Week" began and I can't stand it. I appreciate the time off, but it's not filled with anything worth while. It's just meaningless, unproductive task after meaningless, unproductive and soul-crushing task set by my parents. And it's going to be this way in the summer months, too, until they finally realise that I don't give a damn about what they want me to do, and that really I'm not very happy having to do it all, that they're sucking the life out of me and crushing my dreams, because they don't let me have the God-damned free will I ought to have!

I have got to get out of here. I have got to find something worth doing that can get me away from this mundane repetitiveness before I snap. It's already getting to me, and from here it'll just start getting to other people by proxy. And Mother of Mine says I didn't used to be this way? That's because I used to be allowed to make decisions for myself. Instead my parents say I'm not living in a hotel and I have to pull my weight. I didn't realise this was living. It's more autonomy than anything else, and the treatment isn't to hotel standards. They book their holidays and they go out and we get a list of chores that make up for what they don't do themselves. Sure, we eat the food that was made in the pots, but we didn't ask for it. And we're dragged away from whatever we're doing to clean up. We're not asked, we're told.

Three and a half months of this? I don't think so. I wouldn't last it, not a second time around. My brain would turn to mush. As a friend of mine says, "Lord please release me from this terrible burden..."

Let It Slide

I was happy since Wednesday night. Then I hit a bump in the road. I won't go into the specifics of this, for one reason and one reason only - I'm letting it slide. A person was an ass to me, and I'm sure anyone who knows us both will have seen it already, so there's no need for me to name and shame him. It was offended by him, on so many levels, and while I wanted to do something about it, there was the slight (or, you know, massive!) issue that I had.

See, I have a firm belief that just because someone is an ass does not mean I am then justified in destroying them. Not literally. I mean more along the lines of reporting them for harassment to the college which may have resulted in subsequent disciplinary action against him. No more college, no more foreseeable future. A dead end.

I do not dead-end people. That would make me worse than them.

So I'm letting it all slide. If he wants to be an ass, let him. I honestly don't care what he does anymore, and any trouble he gets in to will be as a result of him or someone else, but not me. I won't be the person to make someone feel like shit about themselves for doing something they can't change.

That's my two-cents this late Saturday night - don't aim to hurt people just because they've hurt you. By all means, if they break the law against you, if they hurt you irreparably, if you can't deal with it, take action against them. But don't hurt people out of spite. It's something I've always known and something I got taught again by my best friend a couple of weeks ago. It's something I can be proud to live by, if nothing else.