You know how you do something that seems appropriate at the time, like make a comment that's a bit mean-spirited but is very funny, or explain exactly why you don't read someone's journal any more (which is always for a negative reason, obviously)? You wonder for a moment if this is a wise thing to do but you think, "Darn it, I have the right to say what I think," and so you go ahead in what you consider a pretty reasonable way because you're not setting out to hurt anyone's feelings, you're expressing your opinion.
But it doesn't seem that way in retrospect, especially when the person who was the object of your objections lets you know they didn't appreciate your behavior. And there you are, Miss Stank 2001, thinking that what you were doing was trying to explain your position on something mildly controversial like language use or violent video games, and finding out that Mom was right: if you can't say anything nice you need to keep your mouth shut because nobody wants to hear it.
As a result, you feel like a heel because you know you did not mean to be mean, but the damage is done and everyone now knows what a sanctimonious jerk you are. They might already have known that, but you certainly reinforced the image. And while the greater part of your sore conscience centers on having made someone feel bad by doing the wrong thing, and some of it is tangled up in resentment at having been caught doing the wrong thing, you also feel the sting of anger at your own inability to learn this lesson. Because this always happens. Every single time you express a negative opinion you get shot down for it and you're not the sort of person who can brush that off. You can dish it out but you most definitely cannot take it. People with thin skins have no business expressing an opinion. You pay, and pay, and pay for thinking otherwise.
Maybe someday you'll learn. Until then, your conscience is going to ruin your peace of mind.
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