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  I’ve spent most of my life being really good at being really mean.
  The only real trouble with being nice is that being mean just comes so naturally, and I’m so maddeningly GOOD at it! I used to be well-practiced in the art of conjuring up a phrase that could rip you apart in a matter of carefully-punctuated seconds. I could pick the right words, the right tone, and the right facial expression and time it all just-so in order to achieve maximum damage.
  But see, being mean never payed off in the long run. Just because I could use my creative cruelty in the form of humor, witticism, and cleverness didn’t redeem my behavior. Sure, in the short-term being mean gave me an advantage, and edge over everyone I came in contact with simply because they knew I could rip them to shreds if I wanted to. It gave me some filthy taste of power, but no one really likes that person who is constantly in a power struggle with them.
  No one really likes someone who uses their way with words to be mean.

  So here’s why I’m saying all of this- in the past five years, I have learned more than I knew was possible about the power of words. And while I still have that knack to be mean and make everyone who disagrees with me look like idiots, I try not to use it. Because I hate that in others, so why would I cultivate it in myself?
  
  Words can be seeds and weapons and gifts and armies and promises and curses and beauty. Choose carefully.

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