Monday, December 17, 2012

Faux

Set in a counseling office:


I'm mostly confused by my relationship with others. I spend most of my time loathing them, you know? Like, every single action is some reviling contradiction and indication of the intrinsic and frequently denied hypocrisy of human nature!

There are so many brands of lies and short life stories that people feed themselves and desperately impress upon others. It makes me want to vomit, it does. Sometimes I do. Usually in the bathroom after lunch. That's when the unpleasantness is most atrocious. I can smell it, you know? Some people are drenched in it, truly foul.

And then they start talking. The gall. They tell me, "I've been cutting down on the bad foods and dieting and exercising! I've been eating the reduced sugar Philadelphia cheesecakes and drinking the zero calorie Red Bull. Oh, oh, oh, sure, fine, you're still an imbecile. And they think they're exercising! It's humiliating, to even consider that, that they approach physical situations like that without any prior knowledge. They spend forty repetitions lifting fifteen pounds. If they were any more vacant I'd suspect that they might stop breathing.

But I crave company and I can't seem to fill the void. The soul gnawing emptiness that is accompanied by a lack of some faux imitation of authentic friends.

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