Lies, deceit, grudges, temper tantrums, personality clashes. I watch as this toxic sludge oozes out the sides, perilously creeping close to my sneakers. Perhaps this is why I build a wall around myself so that no one really knows who I am–or perhaps more accurately, I contain myself so that I’m not the match that ignites the pile of explosives lying close-by. I worry when people get angry because they don’t seem to care who they hurt.
True, this apparent pettiness is Not My Problem, but when someone asked me to join the fray I’m close-lipped and non-partisan. I don’t take sides because I’m a coward. I don’t even try to mediate either, otherwise, I’ll be Luke trapped in the Death Star trash compactor.
I see but don’t do. Am I avoiding the real world? I am almost lackadaisical, perhaps even lazy, when it comes to social problems. I distance myself from them. I hope I’m not the student who glories in the destination and fails to look around and discover that the palace is actually a pile of rubble. Besides, I somehow always wind up being the soundboard for everyone else’s problems. Maybe I should become a psychologist.
In other overheard conversation: Some scientists speculate that hickeys are overzealous teenagers’ way of marking mating territory. Sort of like mindless dogs marking every other tree. Ew.