I hated her. I hated the way she looked, the way she talked. The way she moved.

Her youthful smile, the long, blond hair.

I hated her, because she was everything I was not. Envy. Jealousy.

But eventually, even she grew up. Eventually, she lost her youthful smile, substituted by wrinkles. Her blond hair turned grey and her flowing movements became stiff.

I hated her, but not anymore.