Congratulations it’s a hypocrite

I see now that I am having a difficult time coming to accept how selfish each individual person is compelled to be. It’s just the sort of thing that makes one want to have breakfast alone. I won’t call them “people” since sentences that start with “people” are very unattractive. I won’t call them “minds” because that is not their major composition. Bodies only find the urge to stretch out to make themselves known to others, and it does not matter if yours were to stretch back at all. Or rather, it does not matter why yours may not stretch back, whatever might be afflicting your hamstrings, it only matters that you do not applaud their reach with wide eyes, a march of carefully metered “right’s,” and an attentive stupor. In fact if you don’t do that, you will certainly offend them. It is better not to speak at all. If one speaks at all they subject themselves to another vomit of oily thoughts and wants and wants and thoughts and if’s and who’s and why’s and I do believe it is then, quite then, we disappear.

Why is it that no body sincerely cares any longer. Why is every hello a politician in disguise, a conduit for an obese agenda one should have seen lurking. Why is every how are you a toll that must be paid before you race to merge ahead of the other person. It is all an ugly lurch from the void to force oneself upon the other before they do so to you. It is all you can do. To turn them into the head so you may assume the role of the hat who sits like a lid on the other’s free thought. If you don’t, you must simply resume the void—there, a thousand fedoras who could have been flowers roam silently in space, groping faintly, unaware of gravity, headless.