This was always the chat my dad would have with people, when i eventually brought them home. I didn't like bringing people home, it wasn't often that I did, and they would always make it hard. I would see them making looks at each other, or wanting to ask difficult questions, or talking way too much to them. But they were always really nice. Nice. Nothing I could complain about.
It never felt nice being there. it was always a big deal to come home, because I had lived so far away. But they had this habit of ganging up on me or telling them that I do things wrong or I'm difficult and they would agree, out of politeness, and afterwards say "i thought that was a bit much". It wasn't like they said anything directly or they were critical, mostly they spoke around things to make me feel small.
i don't know how to describe it. mostly it was the apology that made me feel worse, they were sorry for me. I should be sorry for myself. I should agree. They always told me I was difficult and everyone agreed.
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