I'll compare it to the feeling of hearing your own voice played back at you out of speakers. Typically, you're the one who hears your voice the most out of anyone. It's something you feel pretty confident in being familiar with. But suddenly, when you hear it the way everyone else does, it sounds wrong. There couldn't be more repulsive auditory stimulus in existence, and all you want in the world is for it to stop.
It's kind of like that. Where I have this
idea, this picture in my head of what I think I resemble. But then I
look in the mirror and find staring back at me a creature I can't
recognize. I swear we've never met. And whenever I was around any of
these others, any of the before-you's, the vision of myself in my mind
had arms that were at least 13 inches too long for her body. She was
definitely cross-eyed. She had a substantial uni-brow or something
equally horrific. Her teeth were all sorts of sticking-out and crooked
and she was like an outhouse in the sense that you wouldn't want to be
near her for any longer than your breath could be held in your lungs.
This was how I assumed I must have looked, based on all of these before-you's treatment of me.
Then I'd crawl home at the end of the night, look in the mirror and come
to a realization. The coast was clear - No uni-browed monster here. I
wasn't half as ungraceful and revolting as I had been made to believe.
So, I'd ask, What gives?
It was like
this with you. Except, of course, the exact opposite. I could describe
the entire initiation of our relationship with two words: Who, me? After
spending time in your oh-so lovely presence, I would face that mirror
at the end of the night thinking that exact thing. Here you had me
under the impression that I was some sort of prepossessing cherubim when
I was really, in fact, just plain old me.