Bitterness
Bitterness is one of those solid, reliable feelings. Being able to set my jaw and turn my face away (just a fraction) is a powerful and dependable reaction. So subtle you’d be a fool to call me out on it, but enough of a motion that I can almost see the concrete setting up around my heart. Sped up like a time-lapse video. Here we have the initial insult, the wrongdoing that grants me the license to resent, and now we have the barrier – a great retaining wall erected between us. May I present a gift to me: Justified Anger. Usually I'm complicit in our conflict so this purity is rare and, thus quite satisfying. Savory, I think, as I sink my teeth into it. Bitterness is sturdy and chunky. Something I can really hang on to and something I could enjoy. Your swift recognition that hurt has been inflicted, quickly followed by your sincere apology, is disappointing. It’s like drawing a hot bath and being interrupted just as I’ve put my toe into the welcoming water. Sure,