And now I shall be very honest.
My mother told me once that I hadn't been a very nice child. A long time after, when I asked her why she'd said it, she told me she couldn't remember. Now she's not around to ask anymore.
People have occasionally pointed out to me that I've said mean sounding things.
I've been accused of thinking that I'm better or smarter than everyone else. At first, I didn't understand why, but I think I do now.
On the other hand, a friend of mine said that she wondered if I were mean when she first knew me and heard me joke around, but others told her I was very nice. After that, she came to agree with them.
I think I'm mean, though. I don't wake up in the morning intending to be, but I think I'm not really a very nice person, nor have I ever been. I know what goes on inside my own head, and sometimes some of it leaks out like goo.
I have a longstanding desire to talk less when I'm with other people, but I routinely fail at it. My grandfather spoke little, and people respected him. Because I lack other qualities and abilities he had, I can't hope to command anything like the high regard in which people held him. But I could do less damage if I just learned to keep my mouth shut. A friend of mine once told me, years ago, that I irritate people. I have to admit that I even irritate myself.
Over time, I've come to feel a lot less judgmental towards others for the way I've been treated. I used to be much more resentful. I've since learned I get along with most people best if I don't get to know them too well or spend too much time with them. It's better for everybody.
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Life is a classroom for a mind without walls.
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