Fear

I fear people who smile with their mouths open; they always look as if they're about to bite you and seem pained at having to do so.

I fear people who measure one's humanity by focusing exclusively on externalities. The fat, mutilated, maimed and crippled are to them strangely somehow beyond suffering in their suffering. Only the beautiful can know heartache, can know pain -- the pain of an esophagus burned by acid vomit, the pain of breast-implant surgery recovery, the pain of taxed but chiseled muscles marshaled against gravity in some mindless fuck of physics to engender more beef, more shapes unnatural in their shapeliness.

I fear people who see others as nothing more than animate beige stains against the snow globe of their awareness, whose puling is maddening in its pointlessness, whose complaints cannot be real complaints because they're not his complaints.

I fear people.