The whirlwind journal of my mischievous hormones
"It's okay, sweetheart," Natha patted my back as I continued to sob in his shoulder. "Don't be too hard on yourself."
"But it's ridiculous!" I wailed and hit his upper arm in frustration. "...sorry."
Haa...it was also ridiculous how harsh I became. Glaring, snapping, hitting...I did those things easily these days, and I was not too fond of it. Especially because more often than not, I did it without realizing it--which was worse because I couldn't stop it until it was too late.
"It's fine," Natha continued to stroke my back and my hair gently, as if pacifying a child. I was indeed acting like a child. "I'd rather you take it out on me than on yourself."
"I'd rather not have to take out anything at all," I grumbled against his shoulder.
"Well, of course," he laughed relaxedly. The light-hearted tone in his voice gradually soothed my heart and mind. "But we can't exactly choose, can we?"
"Ugh..."