We shall find no fiend in hell can match the fury of a disappointed woman,—scorned, slighted, dismissed without a parting pang. - Colley Cibber

So watch out.

Yeah, that depressed poet garbage down there? Over it. As the Ancient Romans would've said (if Latin were still a language that was used by the people of Rome), Fac me cocleario vomere! (Gag me with a spoon!)

As you may have guessed, I have moved from disappointment and sadness to spite in less than three hours. I now feel quite angry and scornful and have an intense desire to inflict my wrath upon the object of my frustrations. While it is not an overly wholesome emotion, I am quite enjoying it. As usual I will remain the "spotless lamb" that I try to portray myself as and not do anything of the sort. But nonetheless, I'm quite enjoying imagining all of the things I wish I could say to this person the next time I see them.

I'm sure I'll cool off in short order, but I thought I'd share this phase of my little episode with "the masses".

Awesome.

Edit 9:59 PM

*ahem* So yeah... Sorry about that. I'm really not that psychotic... Anyway, I'm feeling even better now! I am now gracing the happy land of apathetic joy! I really don't care, and I like it that way! YAY!