People are fickle, aren’t they? They change on a whim and you can think you know a person one day, and they can be a complete stranger to you the next. Sometimes I think I’d be better off without them. Actually, most of the time I think that.
I’m not a people person, and there’s few days that I live where I’m not reminded of that fact. Day after day, people continue to prove what I’ve known about them all along; they are selfish, and cruel. They are dishonest, and disingenuous. They are careless, and malicious, and full of vitriol and vice. People are fucking jerks.
I think back on past relationships, and past friendships. At the time, those people meant a lot to me. I’m sure I meant a lot to them too. And now, I can’t think of a single reason to speak to any of them again. I’m sure they think the same of me, and that’s fine. Even the people I once thought I would have in my life forever now mean nothing to me. Because people change. I’m not exempt. I’m a people, and I’ve changed.
And then I think about the people I know now, and I can’t help but wonder how many of them will be strangers to me in two years. Five years. Ten. Am I going to hurt them? Are they going to hurt me? Should I just give up now, and save us all the trouble? Sometimes I want to. But no, I won’t. The people I love, I guess they can stay. But as for everyone else, I’m getting as far away from them as I can.
To be honest, I grew tired of people a long time ago. I hate them. I mean hell, read the title of this blog, it’s literally in the name. So, here is what I’m going to do. I’m going to write my book. And I’m going to make a lot of money. And I am going to move away from this town I’ve lived in for twenty two years, and I’m going to live in seclusion, as a recluse. I am going to be the less bald, more female version of Spider Jerusalem, living as far away from humanity as I can. I will have a typewriter, and a dog, and a shotgun to shoot anyone who dares intrude upon my self imposed solitude.