It worked out well for me.

The best feeling in the world is proving someone wrong. And it’s almost orgasmic if it’s done by action and not by words. Not standing in front of the person and gesturing madly but gently fucking them over for being a bitch to you. Telling them they were wrong and how. How that when they sat there, all haughty and nauseously smarty, they had the upper hand and now I have turned that around. I can sit here and smirk because I made it to where you didn’t think I would. That you read me all wrong. That I wasn’t stupid and I knew that, I just wanted you to know so you can wallow in self pity.

On 23rd November 2005, I was sat down in college and mercilessly criticized for wanting to be in advertising. I didn’t know enough about it. I couldn’t think advertising. I didn’t know a good ad from a bad one. Three people sat down in front of me pulling my confidence down to my ankles, shredding my esteem to bits and gloating, a right granted to them by the sheer merit of position.

Even then, when I wasn’t so worldly, I knew they were petty. What I didn’t know was the darkness of the human heart. I didn’t think it was possible for people in power to misuse it with such alarming lack of conscience. To make people feel like shit because you can. To use such hurtful and cruel words only to indulge in the joy of another person’s misery.

It was half an hour and I know each moment with vivid clarity. Where each one was seated, their faces, their false disappointment in me, their small leap in the heart as I failed. What they said, what they didn’t. What was implied. An insult still sits strong in my heart. One of them said, “You are doing this for a lark. Not taking this seriously. You are never going anywhere.”

It’s 23rd November 2010. I am doing a job I like, I have friends I love, I have a career and I am standing on my own feet. I am happy.

To you I have to say, HA!