The gift of pettiness.

Okay, this isn’t a gift you want. It’s one of those gifts you get from someone that means well but doesn’t understand what a gift is. Unless their idea of a gift is to see just how fine we can draw the line between being kind and lying.

Me? I can get petty with who says what and responds to what on Twitter. I hate this about me. I don’t think it takes any special talent to be petty. Maybe that is why I am so good at it.

Listing all of the things that I let get under my skin would prove how petty I am, but I don’t really want you to know the depths of this depravity. I think it will suffice for you to know that I know that I am petty.

Perhaps being self-aware will be helpful to overcoming my addiction to utilizing this dreary gift. I could, however,  simply spend my days hating the fact that I am petty and do nothing more about it than recognize it in my life. I hope it is the former.