There is a difference

I hate half of the people I know.  There are two ways to look at life, and I always find myself looking at it half empty. It would be so anti-social of me to say I don’t really fancy human company then again that’s the way it is. But hey! I’m just selectively social.  There’s a difference.  She said it like she knows me , maybe because we went through high school together but I have always reduced her into a stereotype, general not remarkable enough to individualize. She knows nothing about how I live my life and hers is entirely irrelevant. But because she’s a huge blabber mouth. Her words and stories penetrate my universe and I am forced to hear how pathetic she is. An attention whore who always have a ready smile across her face as if tomorrow may never come. I don’t hate her because she’s always happy, individual differences, I totally get it.   I hate her because she keeps including me, and I don’t want in. I wish I could slap those words to her face, fighting has always  been the show I never tried to visit. But I’ll let myself star in one if I’ll loose my temper. She needs to be hurt with words, and if it doesn’t hurt her. It will kill her. Words kill me at times, like they’re my Achilles heel.  But they often rebirth me and right now they still keep me breathing.   It is  both  poison and  antidote.