Mean living

I get angry then I get mean. It tastes bitter and I try to keep it in but I can’t. Then it’s too late and I’ve ruined something.

A reputation, a conversation, a relationship, an evening. A family.

The thing that made me angry and then mean is gone, but I am left alone with my meanness.

Nobody wants to be around someone who is mean, not even me. But I can’t get away from myself.

I am lonely and I want to be around other people but I am afraid of what I will do to them. If this time will be the time that I go too far. That I break a heart or burn a bridge too completely.

Being mean is the part I have feared the most. They told me that lots of people with HD aren’t mean. They told me that just because my mother was mean doesn’t doom me to meanness. They told me that my true, kind nature would be exaggerated.

They were wrong. And now I’m mad at them too because I bought into their wishful thinking.

Every time it happens, it is harder to bounce back. Every time it happens, I feel less of myself left.

I think back to when I was twenty-something and I laughed and jumped from rooftop to rooftop with my friends in our platform shoes.

That girl can’t ever come back, and I miss her.

 

 

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