A Breslin rant. (She has more to say. Will you listen?)

I’m realizing more and more that Breslin has a lot on her mind. Emotionally, especially. Her latest? The below:

He hates me. Or thinks I’m stupid. Not sure which is better. Hate could mean there’s some respect there. Stupid just says I’m an idiot he feels sorry for. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I’d rather he hate me. But the way he makes me feel–stupid, idiotic, odd–tears at my confidence. Makes me too vulnerable. Like I’ve exposed everything to him and to a crowd of people, all yelling mean things at me. Embarrassment hits me so hard to the point where I can’t seem to escape it. I feel like it becomes me, covers me in red paint, so everyone else can see. And feel sorry for her. For me. He just never understood me. Never wanted to, never took the time to. My likes? Always stupid. My feelings? Idiotic. Rarely did he hug me, comfort me. Sure, those might not be his strong points, but why am I always the one trying to adapt to him? Why can’t for once he adapt to me?


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