…that one girl** in high school maybe wasn’t snotty and condescending, you were just jealous and insecure. (Just the one, though. Most of the others really were that bad.)
…you’re not actually as nice as you think you are. You’re very polite, to be sure, but not always actually nice. Your very politeness is a defense mechanism against conflict, yes, but also against genuine emotions and connections.
…twenty years past high school and the years when you were supposed to figure this stuff out, you are still struggling between wanting to fit in and wanting to be yourself, still looking for the place where those things can happen at the same time. (Also, you’re still writing incredibly run-on sentences with a shaky grasp of grammar and punctuation.)
*And by “you”, I mean me. Obviously. I really don’t understand how writers can maintain second-person voice for hundreds and thousands of words. It’s exhausting.
**This whole post was inspired by an incredibly unexpected, incredibly kind gesture from said girl, now woman. Thank you.