The Fury

by Alex Michaelides

The Good Soldier

She was deliberately provocative, with a touch of “the end of the pier”—as

The ruin was the remains of an ancient villa complex from over a thousand years ago. It had belonged to a wealthy Roman family.

I’m about forty years old, give or take a year or two. I’m told I look younger. That’s down to my refusal to grow up, no doubt—never mind grow old. I still feel like a kid inside. Doesn’t everyone?

In case I am speaking to a young person now, let me give you something to hold on to: do not despair at being different. For that very difference, initially such a source of shame, so humiliating, and painful, will one day become a badge of honor and pride. The reality is, these days, I am proud to be different—I thank God I am. And even when I was a child, and full of self-loathing, I sensed another world was out there.

I don’t believe you can ever truly be friends with someone if they frighten you. How can you be yourself? If you’re afraid, you can’t be authentic.