bees + bad personalities
“ Look at me.” The bees I had brought with me in my mind to help me listen to all that was wrong with me melted away and I brought my chin up, alone. My eyes reluctantly rose to meet her steely green ones. We held like that, her seated and me standing in her court. When she felt it was enough, she blew out all of her disappointment and turned away in disgust. “ I don’t know what it is, but I just see something in you that troubles me. It’s like…” she paused, struggling to find the words for her distaste, “you have a bad personality or something.” The silent impact in my chest felt most like a laugh: that moment of shock when someone on TV is hit by a bus; it isn’t funny, but laughing relieves. Laughing would not be wise. The words came back in focus in time for, “You have all of this opportunity, and you just waste it. If I had had half of the opportunities you have when I was a teenager, I would have been overjoyed. Someday you will see that. You ne...