When a person has forty-seven projects on his desk, plus another dozen or so daily tasks, and everyone wants him to do them (or he needs to do them for himself), why the fuck do those same people seem so goddamned entitled to infringe on every second that person has to spend on those tasks with inane, unnecessary things, extra bullshit work that is entirely pointless and time wasting, even if the time is simply spent telling the person that?

How many times must a person tell someone they’re FUCKING BUSY and that they have TOO MUCH TO DO before that person fucks ALL THE WAY OFF?

The irony is that I’m not a particularly aggressive person. I avoid confrontation like the plague, unless I have no choice. I prefer kindness, gentleness, serenity. I like people who think about other people, who take into account other people’s perspectives. People who genuinely make the attempt to see things from another person’s eyes. People who make the effort to move beyond their own myopia and see things as they are, as unfiltered through their own prejudices as possible.

Of course, I have that problem as well. We all do. We’re all the heroes of our own stories, or the victims.

The difference is I try to make the attempt to break that myopia, and then downplay my own needs and frustrations, and maybe I shouldn’t. What I want is peace. I need a Walden. Separation. Time. Silence. No fucking requests. No one else’s bullshit and banter.

I’m tired of being the punching bag for other people’s inadequacies, because I’m willing to make an effort and they are not.

Target: 600 words
Written: 587 words, novella: The Mungk