A Plague of People

I don't get people. Not in the least. I don't get what they like, why they like it or any reason they have to care at all. It all seems so vacuous. This song. That blouse. Those football players. None of it makes any sense at all.

Marriage. Babies. Houses. Cars. I don't know why anyone wants any of those things. How and why does that make one happy?

Screaming baby. Poopy diapers. Doesn't sound very happiness inducing. I'd rather have a xanax and a beer. Bigger child. Runny noses. Tantrums. Checking homework. Driving to practices. Still not sounding good. Teenager. Dating. Bad attitude. Driving. Sex. Paying for college. Still looking for the up side.

Grown kid. Leaves home. Finds their own partner. Has their own kids. Starts the whole miserable cycle all over again.

When exactly does the happiness come into effect?

Ever since I've been forced to interact with people on a regular basis again I've been increasingly aware of how very little respect I have for the majority of the human race. I view them much as they view viruses and diseases. Prevalent and strong and prolific to be sure. But utterly mindless in their reproduction and the overall scope of their meaningless existences. Deeply stupid on so many levels. Shamefully unaware and uninformed about the world around them. With psychotic disregard for their environment and the creatures with which they share it. Megalomaniacs with delusions of grandeur. Toddlers in an eternal tantrum. Narcissists drowning in an ocean of mirrors.