the moth

One of the few things I've learned in my 29 years of existence is that people, in general, do not like me, actually, in fairness, their dislike is rarely that active, it's more that they would simply rather not have anything to do with me. This probably explains why I have few aquaintances and even fewer friends. In the end I guess this is best for everybody involved.

I don't think this is some attenuated depression used to affirm an already loose sense of self. First, it's simply a cold brute fact. Second, I don't think about the situation in that way, I've some time ago learned to appreciate its absurdity, and anyway, the only thing that makes me happy is when I hear that my sister and mother are happy, which most times has very little to do with the goings on in my life.

... Two weeks ago during the break in what for me is a very long and trying class, I silently mentioned to the self-professed anarchist sitting beside me that there has been a giant moth stuck to the ceiling of the classroom for at least a month.

I made the comment because I really thought the moth looked bizzare, and kinda funny, hanging up there, I mean it's not quite a bat, but it's a really big moth.

Anyway, so I said that thing about the moth, and she looked at me like I was a giant ignormaus, "a moth up there, huh?" she said, half smirking. "Oh, look at that, there is." While I found her response amusing, she was not at all laughing, neither at the moth nor, especially, her own remark, which in her view was adequately dismissive, perhaps even slightly proud.

Today, a week after my moth comment, it's break time again, and she says to all the doughnut eating, krueller peeling, finger licking characters ('cause that's what they do), "hey, there's a moth that's been stuck to the ceiling since the first day of class." And everyone is immediately entrhalled.

"Oh, look at that, I never noticed him before,"

"That's a big moth,"

"Oh, he's hibernating,"

"Ha, ha, ha, ha..."

This dead moth is now the darling of the class.

The moth went from a burdensome observation - a product of one person's perceived insanity (or normalcy) - to the most intriguing item of breaktime conversation yet.

Now, that I noticed the moth was a sheer accident, and this is not important whatsover to the story, anybody could have noticed the moth. Nor is this some comment on my power of observation, it's a fucking moth. In fact, I want to distance myself as far as possible from this narrative.

All of this nonesense is less as an example of my own personally perceived human indifference, and more an example of the drudgery of daily conversation, which is not my drudgery alone. It seems that it's most times bogus whether anybody's listening or not.