An unfortunate reminder

L was the kind of person whose existence made P feel frustrated with herself. It was the kind of frustration that simmered, the kind that constantly itched. Tense enough to burst at any second, but seemingly contained beneath the physical surface of the skin. As if it was the body's way of acknowledging what it understood as unjustified, unfocused hatred.

In other words, on some level, L unfortunately reminded P of herself.

L had a presence about her that made tangible the slew of self-criticisms and half-formed thoughts that periodically shaped the way P saw her own sad existence. Being in L's company materialised these otherwise transient, immaterial thoughts, made them excruciatingly concrete. L was a living, breathing, physical manifestation of everything P felt (and hated) about herself.

Of course P tried to attribute the annoyance to what she convinced herself were more objective criteria - it was her particular manner of speaking, the way she argued about a point that lacked any sort of contention worth debating about, even her body shape and size. These flimsy justifications shot out periodically from her animal brain. Of course L's personality, her figure, the simple fact of her existence, was to blame for P's annoyance.

But of course there was no logical justification. Only that L instigated a set of circumstances, an environment which fostered the unpleasant feeling that one was being continuously judged and criticised. How undignified! To be made to feel so self-conscious without intending to.