A Big Thing

Last night was a big night for me. I confronted an adversary for the first time in months. My well-meaning friend advised me not to do it, and I thought I didn't want to either, but at the end of the night, I realized I HAD to.

I was shaking in my boots as I walked toward him; he scarred me before, so who knew what new damage he would inflict now? He tried his best to ignore me. And then it hit me: he was even more afraid to talk to me than I was afraid to talk to him.

It was a bewildering feeling. In my own nervousness, I never dreamed that he might feel uncomfortable. If you compare our situations, it's obvious that I have far more a reason for terror than him. But there he was, wishing I'd go away, while I was willing to stand my ground and face all possible pain. Who knows, maybe he felt "embarrassed for me," or some weak bullshit like that that people say when they don't have a pair.

But anyways. What matters is that I proved to myself that I HAVE balls. It made me see that the adversary never could have gotten under my skin, except that I, Rex, let it happen. So maybe I'm crazy or neurotic or annoying or scary or histrionic or whatever; therapy can fix all that. At least I have balls, and in my book, that makes me a queen.