Consider me angry.

Consider me cynical, bitter, and cruel. But I am no longer your mere acquaintance, gentlemen, I am your twin.

I am your reflection.

We all march in the same fickle, irritating circles as the next person; we are all human, as hard as it may be to believe sometimes.

Swallow your apologies, men; I don't want to hear them. I don't want to hear about your woe or sorrow. I want the satisfaction of knowing you beat the hell out of your misery—not submitted to it like a coward.

I am a coward.

But I will not succumb to misery; to the whorish revolution—revulsion—that has plagued our minds and tongues. We are a functioning machine, together—without one part, we break. Our chain is only as strong as our weakest link, and upon glimpsing the stronger of the weaklings, gentleman, I am frightened.

Swallow your tears and straighten your back, for though it would appear it is the world that cries for you, it is only the blind; and it is the blind that follow, not lead. They say the meek will inherit the earth.

I am meek.

But I do not want the earth; perhaps because I am meek. Notice the badge of dignity does not hang upon a coat but upon ones' soul. No one can see it, nor truly know of its existence until you've proven it, men—until you grit your teeth and smile at whatever scare that presents itself before you; red or green.

You can wage your war on your Republicans, on your Democrats, gentlemen... I wage mine on the environmentalists.

Why don't you take a piece of my mind, weeper? See how you like it; it's an acquired taste. Educate your palate- and your ignorant tongue while you're at it… you've eaten propaganda for too long. It doesn't suit you? Carry on, then, gentlemen.

Carry on.