Today, I learned two particular traits
of my character. One is a simple one that stems from my Christian
morality, and the other is very much against it.
After a kind lady accidentally polished
the right rear bumper of my father's minivan with her SUV, I found
myself unable to say “she did it”. All three of us (the police
officer, her and I) knew who was at fault, yet I could not say the
words. We left without blame being verbally given to either party.
Later, I asked my mother who the
terrible counselor was in middle school. This man's method of
counseling my troubled soul was to pressure my until I acted in a way
that fit the misbehavior I came there for. He would then deem me
“unstable” and consider his work done. He is the main reason
Pisgah asked me to leave in sixth grade. My mother told me this man
was Bryan Smyth.
Now, for those who don't go to Pisgah,
when that school eventually gets a glimmer of intelligence and fires
him, please don't hire him on as
a counselor. In fact, don't give him any
position of authority. The man is a Pharisee. I’m sure most of
Pisgah's issues can be traced back to some authoritative decision he
made. I can go on for a long time about how worthless
he is.
The
above paragraph probably tells you everything you need to know about
my second trait in character. At this moment, I cannot forgive this
man; my memory, although faded, of his abuse of my childhood makes me
apt to have this stain his career and life. I’m seriously
vindictive for this man.
This
man is the first to really hurt me. I don't remember anyone who has
damaged, besides him. I’m going to school tomorrow, and if I see
him, I will do my best. My goal is not him, anyway; I’m merely
going to see a friend.