How We Deal With Misery

VII: Oversensitive [through mirrors]

He had this habit of tapping on my shoulder every now and then, whenever I was in close enough proximity. He does it everytime he he laughed, or everytime he cried. Either way, he would tap my shoulder--as if to inform me of his joy and sorrow.

I would always smile and take it graciously, even though I always thought the way he tapped my overly sensitive skin could hurt quite a lot. I believed he needed the habit more than I needed my personal space, so I never spoke of it at all.

"It hurts..."

But sometimes the pain could knock at your conscience, urging you to take action because you were doing a disservice to yourself. The pain and discomfort ran second too, so sometimes you end up blurting out the things you have already promised to keep to yourself.

"It hurts when you do that you know." I smiled as I said this nonchalantly, swinging my legs as I sat on the metal bench we used to sit on a the time.

"It really hurts."

I looked up at him as he stood, eyes downcast as he replied.

"Then I'll stop."

And then he turned, and walked away from me as if it was my fault, for the third time this year.

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[06/24/20, 06:31]