When you looked directly at me, and said “You don’t know me,” with the crack about my Harvard analysis, I thought of all the evenings that I’ve spent listening to your stories and problems and your secrets and your life.
As your friend, I wanted nothing from you except to understand you and make you happier, and in exchange you gave me, literally, the worst insult I’ve ever received.
You have a tendency to become suddenly and randomly mean and scornful to me. I find this inexplicable, because I feel that I have never treated you with anything but love and respect.
I?m less angry now, but I am still afraid of you.
I can probably have a reasonable conversation with you now without being mean back at you. But be aware that I have changed the access code to my heart.
