even if i slowed down, you’d still accuse me of going too fast. unless i stopped altogether. it’s what you think you know of me. frankly, sometimes i think i could argue that you don’t really know me at all. don’t constantly compare me to someone, then yell at me for pointing out our differences. is it so terrible that i would like to be an individual? that i would like to make my own mistakes, instead of being just like “so-and-so?” and don’t you dare ask me where my money goes ever again, like i’ve just spent some of your paycheck. it’s mine. i work damn hard for it, and i’ll either spend it or not spend it however i like.
counter acts of kindness:
josh brushing my hair until it was shining. there is nothing beautiful that could contend to a thoughtful hair brushing. the kind where someone keeps your hair close to your head with one hand, while they delicately brush through the after shower snarls. it becomes something personal.
my step-father helped me move for the 10th time this year. perhaps not 10 time; perhaps only four times. he’s moved me enough times to only beg me not to move into another two story building. i think he’s resigned to the point of complacency now. irregardless, when loading and unloading, he definitely handed me a whole bunch of the lightest boxes imaginable, while sticking my not-so-parent-popular ex with all the heavy lifting. it warmed my heart.