Exciting Times

by Naoise Dolan

“I like talking to you,” I said—quite stupidly, I realized. “It makes me feel solid, like someone can confirm I’m real.”

I was quieter and more openly begrudging now, and it was becoming clearer than ever that the other teachers found me odd. I’d encountered this opinion so many times, in so many places, that I’d come to find it comforting. It doesn’t matter if a fact is good or bad, I thought. You don’t mind once everyone agrees. Their consensus makes it true, and truth feels safe.

“You keep describing yourself as this uniquely damaged person, when a lot of it is completely normal. I think you want to feel special—which is fair, who doesn’t—but you won’t allow yourself to feel special in a good way, so you tell yourself you’re especially bad.”

“Mam,” I said, “have you ever been afraid to say sorry?” She said yes. If you weren’t afraid then you probably weren’t sorry.