I stare at her and I am amazed. I think to myself, “Dammit, I know what I’m talking about. You can’t be right about everything!”
However, to keep the peace, I say nothing. I go into that quiet and dark cave to light the flame of my cauldron of dark emotions. Anger, because she thinks I’m stupid. Annoyance, because she’s never wrong. Self-pity, because I know that I’ve, once again, given ground to keep the peace. Pride, because I know I’m the better person. Fear, because I’m afraid that if I do raise a ruckus, I’ll lose what is important to me. Pain, because I know that in the end, these feelings will boil into a brew of explosive anger that will rip us apart.
Why can’t she just look at things from my perspective? Why can’t she, for once, try to walk a centermeter in my shoes? Why do I always have to back down? Why does she have to always be right and I have to always be wrong?
I hold my nose as the noxious steam rises from the brew and dip my ladel into the bubbling mixture…