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
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
“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
It’s not that bad
but let me tell you
there is no better feeling
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
are forcing them.
Guess what kids?
They try to do that your whole life
right up until the day you die.