making monsters

18 Apr

Yesterday, there was a knock at the door. Before I opened it, I looked through the peephole to see a man who resembled Somebody That I Used To Know. My first reaction was fear. I took a step away from the door and considered forgetting there was someone on the other side. But I didn’t want to be afraid. I wanted to be brave and strong, and dammit, I had to open the door. It took me less than a second to see it wasn’t who I feared, it was just some guy, selling something. He asked if my parents were home, which could but will not inspire another blog entry altogether, so I motioned Dad toward the door and retreated to the living room. I realized how all this time alone with my thoughts has magnified his worst traits, and I sort of feel bad about it. I think I need to see his face to know that he is not as monstrous as I imagine. I need to see that in spite of all the Bad he represents, he might still be human. I’m not suggesting that we meet over lunch or even shake hands in passing. I just need to see, from afar, that he’s not someone of whom I should be afraid. This is weird, because before I felt this way, I only hated him.


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