You sat there quietly and patiently waiting to speak. You were statuesque still, except for your right leg. It was shaking so violently, as though your leg was trying to escape from your body. You kept wiping your mouth off with the palm of your left hand. Still statuesque, except for the exodus leg and your left hand. It finally came, your turn to speak. A loud boisterous voice escaped from your throat. The voice does not match the frail malnourished body it escaped from. You started ripping into the other people that were in the room; how they come in and unload all of their problems and drama onto the others. You compared it to verbal vomit, verbal diarrhea. You kept going on and on about how this upset you. It actually angered you that people come into this room, selfishly, and metaphorically, unloading all of their shit onto the floor and on everyone else. You continued to explain how fucked up this is and how selfish it is; and when they finish, they always get up and leave after they have unloaded. After you said all that was able to escape from your throat, you went back to your statuesque posture, except for the exodus leg and your left palm wiping off your mouth. After about a minute had gone by, you did exactly what you were complaining about. You verbally unloaded on everyone and everything in the room, got up, and walked out. You did the exact thing that made you angry. I found this quality in you disappointing. After the room let out, like cattle, everyone walked down the hallway, that is when you spotted me. You approached me and introduced yourself. You then started to core dump all of the shit idiosyncrasies of your life upon me. I was trying to be polite, waiting for you to finish, but you did not shut the fuck up, you just kept going, on and on. I finally could not take it anymore, I had to shut you down. I interrupted you. I asked you why you did the exact same thing that made you angry. You smiled and laughed. You said something about we either do what we love, or what we hate. I had to walk away, you are just another fucking idiot.
Your Eyes Are on Them
Published by ggkalfas
G.G. Kalfas is an American born author and publisher. He is also the noted author of many books, which encompass his experiences within life and death, as these experiences are displayed through the subject matter of his short stories. His intention for writing these books, is to display the importance of philosophy and psychology, as they play an integral part of the development contained within the experience of the human condition. Within his development, G.G. was compelled towards music, poetry, art, philosophy, and psychology. He was also the lead guitarist in a Houston based metal band, as well as the owner of an underground art gallery. He now spends his time writing about the darkness within the human expression, while exploring the hidden knowledge contained within the depths of life, death, and what may or may not exist beyond human consciousness. View all posts by ggkalfas
