Belated, Half-Assed Apology

to my sister who shared a bed with me growing up, and for reasons unbeknownst to me, breathed heavily at night, and I’d slug her with my pillow and hiss, Quit breathing, and she’d wake and say, What do you want from me? If I don’t breathe, I’ll be dead. And to the lovers who snored and I’d shove my pillow over their heads, kick their bodies until they were just about to fall off the bed, and they’d wake, and say, What, what? Was I snoring? and I’d groan and ask them to go sleep on the couch because I needed my sleep. I have now discovered that I wasn’t just being a cruel asshole, but I have a bona fide medical condition: misophonia, which oddly enough sounds rather melodic for a word that apparently means hatred of sound because there are many sounds I rather enjoy, like rain, wind, and birds chirping when I’m awake, but your endless breathing, your nocturnal snoring, those are sounds that I am unable to tolerate because there’s something a little off in my head: so, now, years later, I apologize.