It's been a long couple of weeks. My nerves are beginning to show it too.
There's any number of reasons for this, but most of all, I think it's a matter of course.
I'm also a little frustrated by some people this week. Insisting I have to listen or talk to them whenever they're around. I'm not an object of confession. I'll be there when you need me, but if you need me every night, your need isn't so much a must, as it is an addiction or obsession. I'm not a plaything. I'm a living, breathing human being, with wants that must be met for my enjoyment.
Sitting around for three hours a night talking about nothing does not create enjoyment for me. Especially when all intelligent or amusing conversation is ended in the first half hour, and I find myself providing one word answers to rhetorical questions for the remaining two and a half. Such dialogue is tripe, and I can't imagine why it would provide comfort to anyone, least of all when the questions are loaded.
Do you hate me?
Well, obviously, since I don't, the answer is no.
Are you comforted by this fact, that you haven't earned my ire?
I don't know how people can live like this. I could get by with someone only talking once in a while. I don't get how my not saying much in an evening (but still saying something!) is considered an affront, and that I should be made to feel guilty for not meeting my evening's rambling bullshit quota.
No thanks. If I don't talk enough for your liking, that's your problem. If you want lots of talk without a lot of substance, get a fucking parakeet.