I have a rant. I wrote this at a Starbucks. It was actually happening to me as I was writing. I became so mad, I stopped focusing on my homework and made a bee-line to an open document. This is the outcome. Be aware that it contains 2 cuss words, 2 times and some math. I hate math. Happy Saturday!
I am often confused as to why some individuals feel compelled to be close to complete strangers. It happens all the time. You are sitting in an empty place, an airport, a restaurant, a coffee place. All the seats are empty and you are quite content, then, BAM, a person sits in the chair right next to you. You stare, and they give no response. You inch away, and your movements do not faze them. You sigh heavily and try to show your disgust without actually muttering any words. I mean you do not know them. They could be serial killers or someone who wants to chat with you. Except you don’t feel like chatting or being stalked and murdered. You start slamming things around. Still no response. Then you begin to wonder if this person has actually died in the mere moments after they sat down. So you start to stare again, sizing them up, just in case they want to fight because of your persistence non vocal disgust. They stare back and just shrug their shoulders. So you think, fuck it. You would rather not talk to this weirdo; neither do you want to fight because an assault charge is a vicious battle. So you move. Violently. Huffing the entire time. Pissed because this person had the audacity to sit next to you in a place that was baron. There are 50 fucking empty chairs in this place, you piece of shit! But remember, you aren’t actually talking to this potential serial killer. And after you move, you get comfortable in a new spot in the other corner of the room, against the wall so the possibilities of anyone sitting next to you is only a 50/50 chance and not a 75/25 or 90/10. If that is confusing, don’t worry, I suddenly became confused too. I hate math and ratios and math. Some time passes and just when you have found your groove, a chair pulls out and it sounds very close, and BAM! another idiot. Then you wonder how it could be possible. Then wonder if you may have a sign that reads “sit next to me, I like serial killers and weirdoes” You check your body, no sign. Then you pause to think, have I ever consumed radioactive material that sends out magnet components and now I attract people, specifically weirdoes and serial killers, then you think no, stupid. Then get angry – Why are you sitting next to me! There are 49 fucking chairs in this place and you have to sit next to me, you piece of shit! Ugghhh.
If you ever see me out, don’t sit next to me. I may have cracked that day and am ready to throw down because suddenly assault charges don’t seem so bad, they actually seem enticing and lucrative and sexy. Like hey, how are you, I have an assault charge, want to hang out? Or how about this alternative? Don’t sit next to people! Find your own cozy spot, not mine, and find a spot about 30 feet from others. Oh my god, I’m going to give myself an aneurism. Can that actually happen? Don’t sit next to people if you don’t have to. They may be neurotic weirdoes who will complain, in a nonverbal way and then stop what they are doing, pull out their note pads, or laptops, and suddenly you are the main topic on their blog. And maybe that’s what you were looking for – some anxiety tweaked introvert to give you 15 minutes of fame. If that was your motive, you are a weird kind of genius and now I think I want to talk to you. Hold on, I’ll come back to my seat.