I don’t know why she doesn’t like me, well actually I do. She looks into my face and sees them, the people she takes blame with ruining her life. The second child, that couldn’t replace the one she lost. She looks into my eyes and sees him, a man full of talent and good looks who never provided anything except his genetics. She looks at me and sees them, strong women, filth spewers, deepened by resentment and lost love.
If she really looked at me she wouldn’t see them, she wouldn’t see him or her, she would simply see me. But to look at me is to remember, as I am a reminder of all she wouldn’t be…………………
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The Unnerved Traveler