Talking

Talking

The day started badly, I woke up. No, that’s enough, I woke up. I was having such a nice dream and instead of staying asleep I woke up. It was all fake. Instead of all the niceness, the quietness, I was back in my own life.

I got up and did my usual morning things, shower, get dressed, food. It’s not like you have any choice. You could decide to hope you didn’t smell funny, hang around in your pajamas, starve. But it would only make the day harder really. People would talk about you behind your back.

It’s bad enough they talk to my front. Why do people think talking is fun? Just because you have ears they think you automatically want somebody to start talking into them. It would be different if it was interesting talk, but “Nice day isn’t it!” “Did you see that show last night?” Talk, just to what? hear their own voice? I don’t get it. I talk when required. I listen when required. The rest of this endless chatter? I don’t get it.

I know some people think I’m weird. Well, I think they’re weird but I don’t go around telling them to be quiet. Why do they think they need to break me out of my shell, show me how to have a good time? Why can’t they let me be me, the way I already am? It’s like they can’t understand that people are all different and that’s OK.

But what’s worse is, I worked hard to get my job here. I really love this job too, when I’m left alone to do it. So why is it that all the other people who work here are those talky kind of people? It’s not fair. There is no escape.