I can’t put a finger on it, and maybe I don’t want to.
What if I find out why, and realize that I’m wrong? That it’s not the end of the world? That we may very well get along after all?
I hate being wrong.
What if it’s something about me that I don’t like, and you just happen to remind me of it? What if I find out that I don’t like you … because I don’t like me. Then I’d have to change.
I hate change.