I start stuttering and blushing and I twist my words around so much I finally have to stop, because I can't find the right words.
That's what happened yesterday. I meant to say something entirely different, but once I started, I got all mixed up. It's awful.
I used to have a bad habit, and sometimes I wish I still did: whenever I was mad at someone, I'd beat them up instead of arguing with them.
I know this method won't get me anywhere, and that's why I admire you.
You're never at a loss for words: you say exactly what you want to say and aren't in the least bit shy.”
“Oh, you're wrong about that,” I replied. “Most of what I say comes out very differently from the way I'd planned.
Plus I talk too much and too long, and that's just as bad.”
“Maybe, but you have the advantage that no one can see you're embarrassed. You don't blush or go to pieces.”
I couldn't help being secretly amused at his words.
However, since I wanted him to go on talking quietly about himself, I hid my laughter, sat down on a cushion on the floor,
wrapped my arms around my knees and gazed at him intently.
I'm glad there's someone else in this house who flies into the same rages as I do.
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