A Warning Sign.

Because there are so many instances of irritation and it piles up. She can't tell me that she appreciates my work, or that she thinks I'm doing well, or even what I should be doing; instead she just piles on more to do, as though I have simply proven my status as competent, and nothing more need be said.

Because the past is where he exists, much more so than the present. And sometimes I can't breathe; the past is a tomb, uncharted territory, an ancient cruise liner long since shipwrecked, resting sleepily at the bottom of the ocean, waiting for the next unsuspecting diver to venture too close. Because it's a fortress that surrounds him. Because I find it ugly and obnoxious. Because things are so tenuous, and mental equals so put asunder. Because I would rather be alone than a part of something toxic.

Because that admission is corollary to the belief that I actually will always be alone.

Does anyone really listen anyway? Or are you always just sitting there thinking of what to say when it is again your turn to speak? It will make you a beast! Your ego exists to make you a beast, an ugly animal full of fear and loathing. It is not so insignificant and I will never be convinced that none of this matters anyway. It is folly to believe so, and a "get out of jail free" card for one who does not like the station in life to which his actions have lead him.

Because of that feeling that, as soon as you are out of earshot, you are being talked about.

Because I am better than this. So much so.