An Inhuman Condition

These are a few pieces of flash fiction from the Blue Valentines lot that were off subject or unrelated.

Predictable

It’s just too much, you know? That’s what did it: the stress and pressure of everything. How was I supposed to keep things together? I’m not sure what it finally was that pushed me away – the catalyst of it all, but that doesn’t really matter because I’m here now. And, well, you know.

I guess I always felt like I was on the outside of things. I remember the way people used to talk to me like I was invincible. I wasn’t. I mean, of course I cared – everyone cares about what other people think and say about them. It was as if they thought they were being funny or something. They never really got it, you know? I mean, sure, I was pessimistic. Have you taken a good look at the world lately? I just don’t know how you can expect someone to change like that.  It’s not like they really helped or tried to understand me. I guess they just assumed I was one way and gave up looking for anything else. It’s like the way you can just judge someone when you meet for the first time. It’s making an impression and stuff.

I guess I must have been pretty good. I built my walls up nice and thick and nobody ever got in. Well, almost nobody. A couple people got close here and there, but only one of them made it through. But she didn’t like what she saw, I guess. It’s fine, though. I’m not bitter about that. I can’t exactly blame her for it, you know? I guess I’ve always expected worse. It’s just part of my nature.

And that’s really what it is. When you’re a dedicated cynic, you develop this twisted sense of optimism and success. You actually get to feel all the depressing pressure of the world, but you start to hope it’s not really as bad as you think. It gets in your head – the world, I mean. It makes you wonder what’s wrong with you, you know? Why doesn’t everybody else see how bad things are? Why is this an acceptable world? What stops people from running out into the street to look for trucks big enough to crush a body?

And maybe it’s about feeling trapped. I mean, I know I need a certain amount of freedom. That’s the way I’ve always been. I need time to let my mind meander around thoughts and ideas. I spend way too much time in my head and need a break to just sort that all out. Other people don’t seem to have the same problem. They just do things, you know? They can cope with their obligations, going about their chores and lives. It all seems so dull. I’m not looking for adventure by any means; I just think it’s a shame to waste life paddling your ruts.

I can never commit to things. I can’t pretend that I know what I want to do tomorrow, let alone ten years from tomorrow. I need things to be flexible, and looking for a career, pretending to be normal – those are heavy obligations. I don’t want to be stuck in something so long that I resent it. Ultimately I started to resent it all. I would go into work and resent that. I would have conversations with people and resent how easy they made it all look. The more people there were around me, the worse it all got.

I never felt like I could talk about the things that bothered me. Whenever I really cared and tried to say something meaningful, I would always get shot down. They all knew what I was going to say after all. They had their image of who I was so they didn’t have to listen. I could never be more than that impression they had locked away in a little box somewhere in their minds.