The Liar and the Scold

They say that is how we all start off. But I think I am unusual in that I remember the moment that I realized others, too, were themselves. I remember not because I was precocious. Rather, because I was stunted in this aspect of development to the point that it did not happen until I was five years old.

I knew I was myself, but others were, in my mind, these vast, mindless automatons. These strange giants, simultaneously servants and masters. 

Towards my father I felt fear, for it was his hand that applied negative reinforcement. He was not a cruel man, and his slaps were light and always earned, but at that age even something as mild as a bee’s sting feels like death itself. 

For my mother there was love, but it was the sort of abstract, superior love one has for a can-opener that has served you well for many years. 

Sometimes an insight comes so slowly you are not even aware your model of the world has changed. And sometimes just the opposite.

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