Carino,

    I've just been given another title. Wanna know what kind of?

    Supposedly I'm the rudest person in the whole school. Given that my year has over 500 students, that's a remarkable accomplishment.

    But here I am, the most arrogant and nasty person out there.

    A couple of days ago, I had a drink with one of my distant colleagues. I don't like him the slightest, and just how I previously assumed, he's not fond of me either.    But he got dumped.

    And I felt like drinking.

    I'm not fussy about my company. I think that's the root of my problem.

    Still, we sat down like civilised beings we apparently are and opened a bottle of wine. Then there was the conversation part. I got the impression he was wary of me.

    Nothing new.

    So I put some effort into being especially considerate. I don't like when people are afraid of me for virtually no reason whatsoever. Men, in particular. Can't phantom why, but that exceptionally grinds my gears. I mean, when you're over 6 feet tall and have a shovel-sized hand, how could a skinny, foul-mouthed weed like me be so intimidating?   

    And don't even try to be funny. It's not like that joke about the dog who doesn't bite but can hurt your feelings.

    I do bite.

    And if hearing facts hurt you, then fucking change your reality. That's not on me.

    I guess that prick felt otherwise.

    All I have ever told him was how I determined I wouldn't like him because he bossed his girlfriend around. And bossing was the most polite way I could describe how he appeared to treat her.

    I tell you, you'd be furious too if you saw him ordering her to get him the supplies for a presentation. I bet you'd be fuming as you saw her startled expression when she ran for his bag to get him that blasted Pendrive.

    Well, but I'm not a tall, broad-shouldered man who can spout whatever comes to my mind. That's how far my intimidating aura can take me.

    I'm not you.

    So as his tongue has loosened with the wine I bought, he had no problems telling me /I was/ the most tactless and uncivilised skunk he has ever encountered.

    And you know what? At first, his statement made me giddy. Even if it was said with such malice that it could make grass wilt, it made me joyful.

    Why? I have no idea.

    So I just dismissed it, deciding never to give people any second chances and actually try to get to know them.

    I guess some people turn out to be quite decent folks once you get to know them. I believe myself to be one of them.

    Unfortunately, that doesn't apply to the overwhelming majority. The more you know of them, the less you like them. Seeing their ugly colours bleed out in the daylight as you peel off another layer makes you disgusted with humankind.

    That evening I drank my wine and went back to my place. Now that nameless prick seems to get stuck to me like a piece of chewed-up gum. He must have read too much into that evening as later that night, he wrote me a whole novel about how he was terrified of me, but not any more.

    Go figure.

    I couldn't force myself to read that.   

    But as I skimmed through that message, I've noticed how he seemed to identify with me, how he realised that we're on the same side of the spectrum.

    We're not the same. I'm not even close to that psycho. I know it's true. I can feel it.

    Because I /can/ feel it.

    J advised me not to think too much of it. I'm neither scary nor rude. I'm quite lovely to be around, he said.

    But then again, he once confessed he was terrified of me.

    It's not like I stabbed anyone with a toothbrush when imprisoned, damn it.

    It reminds me so much of my first therapy session after my return.

    "What brings you to my office?"

    A massive sigh and: "I was kicked out of school because of rape."

    A blank stare and a moment of silence. "Did you assault someone?"

    "No, I was assaulted."

    God, I hate people.

    I always seem to get the shorter end of the stick.

    Yours truly, B