A Tale of Love and Like

I’ve realized I can do this sort of talking-about-me thing, but I often feel kind of selfish.

I’ve said once that I blame high school for how I turned out as an adult. I remember times when I didn’t get to speak, when my classmates would walk away when I was speaking and I soon enough just faded into the background.

This is where the things I love like about myself come in. I can rationalize things: yeah, I was shy and felt unwelcome, but others had it worse. Compared to some, sitting unnoticed at the back of the room is fine.

I can forget things too. I choose to forget high school, one day at a time. Each day that passes is a day in which I remember someone a little less, in which I remember places and events and things a little less. I don’t relive my memories and they don’t trouble me. I like my creativity and quiet ambition, and the fact that I can be described as perceptive.

In others (I’m not going to pick one favourite person because I don’t like to group people like that) I like it when people can be honest, when they’re capable of looking in the mirror and seeing something that they might not want to. I envy when people are social and outgoing, being very introverted myself.

And yes, the two are related.


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