What exactly do you do, when you realize there’s nothing seems interesting? That you don’t want to meet anyone, because there’s a limit to the elements that influence the human condition, and people are nothing if not predictable, instinctually driven automatons ultimately devoid of novelty. We’re creatures of habit, of our environment, of parenting, of any multitude within a cavalcade of influences both imagined and concrete. Yet our psychology is exquisitely unencumbered with the confusion this might imply.
It’s funny, how we grip so tenaciously to the labels that bind us. Those essentially meaningless syllables that rattle with vowels and consonants but are lost to history and tradition. Do we really identify with these words? Or are they surreal and disjointed to the majority, only accepted as society demands?
Your name is probably not known to me, though your presence be acknowledged, enjoyed, or anticipated. Regardless of your familiarity, sometimes I will forget your label, and may accidentally even use the wrong one.
Bob: Wow, I was beginning to think you’d fallen off teh intarwebs.
Shaun: Droll.
Bob: Well, I certainly thought so. What, nothing to say for the last over a month?
Shaun: …
Bob: I’ll take that as a no.
Shaun: Do you think this is healthy?
Bob: What? Talking to yourself, or being so apathetic you can’t even bring yourself to write about anything?
Shaun: There’s nothing to write! I played some video games, watched all of House… nothing exciting.
