The man with the gun.

I mean - he did exacerbate discord.
Made people feel small.
Loved to belittle and confuse.
He delighted in their pauses as though they were victories.
Tortured them with the tricks of his trade.
Why did he have to do this?

And I recall the exhilaration of heated debate,
The way pressuring someone into an inability to think straight,
To forget themselves,
Feels so much like triumph.
Feels so much like being right.
Until I forget what I was arguing for in the first place.
Blinders on, pummeling people with words and sharp left turns that I am cleverly adept at.
Until they are so completely lost.
And I have won.

And I realise, I am Charlie Kirk.

Well, then - what a senseless choice, from the other guy.
What a violent, heartless man.
A psychopath.
Why is it they still love their firearms more than their people, over there?

And I recall the blinding rage I have felt when somebody’s opinions made a mockery of my values.
I recall the sensation of violence tingling in my fists,
when I feel powerless and pissed off.
I remember all the sharp words I conjure instead,
and the ways I conspire to take them down.
Just a peg or two.
I think.
I’m sure it’s just a peg, or maybe two.
It’s mostly in my head anyway…
Just a small twinge of aggression in what might be my trigger finger.

And I realise, I too, am the man with the gun.

A cultural obsession with mic drops.