Reunions, I hate reunions

and People, I hate people

(I was invited to a home with wonderful people of Indian descent, and I said that to the host—to everyone)

and the head of house looked at me as if I had blasphemed God.

I have always wondered why people are uptight and worried about saying the wrong things…

Now I know

His wife likes me though

She calls me to ask advice about her son, and I do my best

Then, I get invited to her home

but I don’t go.

I should give more effort to cultivating relationships

but

I don’t plant good seeds

and all I get are weeds

like one of my friends, I can’t get rid of

He tells me

that he got a girl’s number who works at the gym

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “The problem is, I can’t find her.”

“Did you text her?”

“Yeah, and she doesn’t respond.”

I wonder about the human race

and why people like to run with each other.

I run alone—I always have.

It seems impossible for me to force myself to do many things

I just don’t enjoy them

People know I don’t want to be around them—and this is an insult to their social sensibilities

but I don’t mean it to be

I just love my own company.

The group tries to get me to believe like them

Soon, I have traded my identity

for an ideology

and I am just like them.

Is this bad?

Not if you like

TV

baseball games

celebrities

gossip

and gang-green

raping

with infections

opinions.

It’s not that bad

I exaggerate

but let me tell you

there is no better feeling

than escape

into a good book

I hate most books

because I can’t stand the people in them

or the people who write them

I’m not alone

Children hate to read

because they are honest

Their teachers

are forcing them.

Guess what kids?

They try to do that your whole life

right up until the day you die.