Carino,

Seeing the positive in people is difficult. Yet somehow, you had always managed to do just so.

By that point, I realised that my professor wasn't the nice guy I assumed he to be.

Fine. I knew that from day one, but I still respected him.

Better?

As for his wife ― since I got close to no time with ― it came later. That woman made me uneasy, and after the second time she had called you a stoner, I knew something was up. That faint, scornful look in her eyes, whenever she had mentioned your name, made me quizzical. Was she fond of you, or the opposite? Did she despise you?

According to you, the married couple had a soft spot for you. It's all because you had never refused to take in Amadeus when they dropped by unannounced, saying they had to urgently leave the town, you claimed. I know you loved that pup, but still being a tad more assertive towards them would be for the best.

But who's talking...

Anyhow, you had always stood by that belief of yours and didn't want to listen when I told you otherwise.

And one time, I got fed up with you defending them.

"You've got no idea what they say about you!" I rolled my eyes. "If you knew, you'd think twice before calling them nice folks." I put air quotes about the last part.

You raised from the pillows to look at me. The sudden shift in your attention scared me because I was more of an evasive type, even if my voice has always been loud.

And to add to that, you put away your cigarette.

"What do they say about me?"

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. You're right. They're nice." I gave up, thinking if I briefed you on my last conversation with my professor, you'd completely lose faith in them, and I didn't want to do that to you. It's not that he meant anything to me. Still, it couldn't be pleasant to hear about how you're unsuitable for me because of your appearance, your chain-smoking habit, or your hectic schedule.

"No, come on. Tell me." You pulled me back to bed as I tried to bail to the bathroom.

I already said too much and couldn't take that back.

But at least I could minimise the blow.

"Well..." I sighed. "He's not much of a talker. She..."

"She what?"

"Well, she said you're a pothead, and she's maybe seen you sober like two or three times." I shrugged as that wasn't a big deal, and I knew how you were already.

Your brows knitted, forming a straight line on your creased forehead.

"When did she say that?"

"Dunno. Can't remember." I probably responded way too quickly because you immediately gave me a critical look. "It doesn't matter. Who cares, huh? She's not a nice person. Neither of them is." I reached for your hand, trying to ease the pang of your beliefs crumbling, but you pulled me closer to lay back next to you.

"What a bitch," you uttered, taking a drag of your cigarette, before handing it to me.

I stared at you wide-eyed, utterly shocked.

"But you like them." I took the cigarette.

"Yeah, still do." You shrugged. "But she's still a bitch."

For the first time in my life, I've heard someone being so direct without sounding rude. You were plainly stating the facts. 

You wouldn't act differently towards them only because you had heard how they talked behind your back, but from that day, you probably hadn't let your guard down around them. You continued to be the upfront, genuine self, as that small detail could not bother you the slightest.

I've always envied you that one ― being seemingly unbothered by how others perceive you as long as the closest to you know the truth.

This and how you could summarise things in unambiguous and the closest to the truth as it can be.

He's not the sharpest tool in the box ― NO! He's an idiot.

She's got too many things on her mind ― Like hell! She's got dementia.

They're not a particularly pleasant bunch ― Are you kidding me?! They're assholes.

Just like that.

Having worked on it for a long time now, I'm happy to say that I'm almost there. I make people laugh with my blunt statements. Maybe I should put filter on some things that leave my mouth, yet even though I shouldn't say everything out loud, I definitely always mean them.

It's liberating, and everyone compliments me for being so authentic.

Betty White once said you can lie to anyone in the world and even get away with it, perhaps, but when you are alone and look into your own eyes in the mirror, you can't sidestep the truth.

Lately, I can't look at myself at all.

Yours truly, B