*687 - knives

I don't know how anyone can harbor so much hate within themselves. Especially if you step back and just look at the situation. Just look at it. Look. Look! Just look! What could possibly justify that kind of quiet, cold, seething, knife-like hatred? Which grows and grows over time instead of fading?

Every day I try to ignore it and be happy. But I've learned to recognize your footsteps (slide-tap, slide-tap) and when I hear that, I stay away, because the daggers you shoot at me whenever I smile and say hi - they cut.

Maybe that's what you want. I hope you're happy.