It is true that the more I loved you M., the more I disliked myself. You were kind, nice, full of joy and life. I have never seen you upset or mad. You never talked before thinking, never hurt anybody’s feelings. You always knew the best music, the best CD, the best movie, and the best art show to share. Your manners were exceptional. You always smelled good, walked and talked at the right pace. Your voice was soothing.
You had what I could not and I had what you would not; I could be mean and hot-headed. I snapped pretty easily. I never thought before speaking, and I said whatever went through me. I hurt a lot of people’s feelings just by this. I apologized to more people more often in a single day than you ever did. I walked and talked fast, especially when I was nervous. I hardly was an art-fan or something. I could stink when I sweated. My language was dry, my words were short, and my voice was hoarse. My manners were, meh, just average.
to be continued
Kate’s short story – XXI
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