Judge of Character

I just wanted to fucking scream.
It seemed like no matter where I went, he was there, hovering over top of me like some kind of crazed psycho in search of his panel van. And, had it not been for the ring on my finger, I would have run to the cops claiming that there was some weirdo stalking me.

I'm such an excellent judge of character.

I struggled deep to remember a time when he didn't repulse me. When the sound of his voice, the smell of his breath, the touch of his hand on my arm didn't send me into convulsive fits and force bits of vomit into my throat. I could remember no such time.

Instead, what I remembered were all the times he did things that indicated he was crazy, yet my teenage brain somehow managed to translate them as being "sweet".

Excellent judge of character...
Yeah, that's me.

What a joke.