For some reason I get this satisfaction in hurting people’s feelings. It makes me want to laugh at their hurt, sad, sorry faces. Or it might send a shiver through my body that makes my heart beat faster, harder. Then I feel the hurt. The raw aching, in my chest that is called sadness. A form of empathy? Maybe. I look that person dead in the eye and can feel that they want to cry, they tried to do something nice. It pains me to feel that. Yet at the same time I’m loving that feeling, not wanting to say or do anything about it. Will my good half win me over? Or will “The Good Side” perish in defeat. I can’t explain myself. I feel angry a lot, maybe it’s because of my age like some people say, though I think it is just in me. It is part of my nature.
This usually ends in one of these two ways. One I won’t say a word to the person and we will both get over it and maybe it just might happen again. Or two, I will apologize in some way and give that person a big bear hug. Then we’ll look at each other and both know it’s okay.
I bet some of you readers are thinking, What the heck is this girl’s deal? Or why do we give care? I know you don’t, but I’m writing for my own joy here. Not because I have to. I’m starting to trail off into blabbing, I’ll end that here. Anyway, there seems to be a pattern of me messing with delicate people.