I Think I May Have a Problem (The Peo-ple Piece)

I think I may have
a problem. I don't like
stupid peo-ple
rude peo-ple
inconsiderate peo-ple
and any combination
of the above. I sometimes
hit a few of these notes
myself. I know I do.
But I think I learn
when I do. And I'm not
convinced that
everyone does. I once
said I was cursed with
self-awareness, and
never knew dignity,
well now I know these
to be true, above all else.
I convince myself,
I celebrate myself,
of all the faults in others.
To make myself better?
Amd what would happen
if everyone were
afflicted with my disease?
Would I finally learn
that it is terminal?
Or that, once and for all,
that all life is, and that's
what we're constantly running
away from, that
terrible knowledge? What do
we know, really? We know
that we die. We spend
our time opting to
postpone it. That's what
life is about, biding our time,
seeing how we can amuse ourselves.

Is this not pessimism? No,
it is not. It is realism, and the
reality is, everyone who
has never commented on this
has been among those who
say this life is too short.
Nonsense, I say, neither is life
too long nor too short. It is
exactly what it is and what it
always has been and always will
be, the being of it. The thoughts
we either voice, or think,
or simply block out, either because
we want to or have never
developed a means to create.
We are, indeed, pitifull creatures,
for the knowledge of what we are,
or for the wisdom few possess to
know. Tell me how it is gained.
I believe it is by accident,
and those who are the clumsiest,
we are the most miserable, because
accidents are exactly that. You can't
just make them happen.