Good riddance.

Finding out he was a sociopath was surprising to me, because the first thing that came to mind was how imperfect he was. He opened his mouth too much when he kissed me on the cheek, which meant the front of his teeth often pushed into my skin. He had terrible, unsophisticated taste in books and films. He spoke embarrassingly formally to people sometimes. He had a primitive, juvenile palate and a strong contempt for seafood. He could be boring. I had always thought of sociopathic people as shiny advanced robots, constantly doing the smart, strategic thing. But now I realised that they were human beings not capable of special things, but human beings incapable of normal things. They lacked, not possessed; no substance, not exciting. Closer to children or animals than anything else – infuriating and basic. I had misunderstood them as slick and impressive, when really they are empty and dull. 

N.

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