I feel defeated

(Kirsten Hughes had zero reason to listen to my suggestion to fire DeVitto, but when 18 year olds are losing faith, that should cause one to pause. – promoted by Paul R. Ferro)

And it’s not because of Kirsten Hughes.

Ms. Hughes is a good person, and she has the respect and the support of some of the most important people in my life. I congratulate her, and intend to assure her, and all of you, that she now has my support. I wish her the best, and I am sure she will make a fine chairperson.

The feeling that has enveloped me is one of moral defeat.

The last time I saw Vincent DeVito’s face was on the floor of the RNC. Rich Berrena suggested I go talk to a FOX reporter that at the time was interviewing Brock Cordeiro. I thanked Mr. Berrena, whom I hardly knew, for his friendly suggestion.

When Brock was done with his interview, I took a step forward to approach the reporter. It was then that a little grey-haired man in a suit put his hands on me, stepped in front of me, his back to me, and said very simply, “No.” The man was Vin DeVito.

I said, “I’m sorry, sir, I was told to introduce myself to this man.”

DeVito replied, “No, you’re not talking to him.”

I asked Vinny for his name a few times, but he just continued to box me out in silence.

I went back to my seat confused, because I had, until then, been treated so well in Tampa. It was then that Rich Berrena informed me of Mr. DeVito’s identity.

When I watched the chaos unfold last night over the “RG” contested ballot, my heart was broken. When Vin DeVito looked at that room full of republican activists and defended his decision to discount that ballot, something inside of me died.

It was as if I joined this party for nothing, as if all of the apologies I accepted, all of the bridges I rebuilt, as if all of that was for absolutely nothing.

The difference between the incident in Tampa, and the feeling I have today, is that, in Tampa, I was genuinely confused for a little while. This morning, I am sincerely depressed. I am saddened. It is a unique and distinct kind of sadness.

The last time I felt this way was not on November 6th. No, the last time I experienced this feeling was on June 15th of this past summer, when I opened a letter informing me that I had been removed from the Massachusetts delegation to the Republican National Convention of 2012.

It’s getting really hard for me to defend my allegiance to this party, and that really does break my heart.

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