An untitled rant…

I sit here like an island of calm in this ocean of…unnecessary feebleness and despair. As I watch, I can almost hear what those around me are thinking. It saddens me. At one corner, downcast eyes and lips turned ever so slightly downward, she tries to mask the pain of a breakup over something inconsequential. Her mask doesn’t quite hide everything though, and in a way…she is as alone as I among this crowd. In another corner a group stands, laughing as they discuss sports and local scandal. I find myself…apart, and yet in an odd way a portion of this horrible mess of random thought. It’s overwhelming.

Unfortunately most of what I see is pain. Mayhap my views are colored. Certainly I cannot claim to have been absent of such. But I see more eyes near tears, more lips turned down in barely contained pain and loss than I do any sign of happiness. Do these people deserve this? I hate them, I won’t lie, but I find that…maybe they don’t deserve this constant dreary and dreadful existance that haunts them. I don’t know, abstract things always tend to bother me. *sigh* I will leave contemplation of this for later.

By The Evil Cheezman

Purveyor of sacred truths and purloined letters; literary acrobat; spiritual godson of Edgar Allan Poe, P.T. Barnum, and Ed Wood; WAYNE MILLER is the head architect of EVIL CHEEZ PRODUCTIONS, serving up the finest in entertainment and edification for the stage, the page, and the twain screens, silver and computer. He is the axe-murderer who once met Andy Griffith.