Maybe I don’t react to things enthusiastically. Is that what’s acceptable now? I must have missed the memo when I said I wanted to be an artist in the 8th grade and I heard nothing but silence and a hushed, “yo, what a faggot.” Or when I faked having migraines so I wouldn’t have to go to school. Or when the default adjective when someone asked, “how would you describe Stephen?” was, “creepy.” I didn’t ask to be some lanky, brooding, dark haired mother fucker that for some reason really likes stuff. Because that’s clearly the kind of person no one wants around. So I wonder if you’ll pardon me my indiscretion of being so mundane, as I’d like to make friends in this establishment and I’ve been conditioned to believe that letting people know you give a fuck about anything is a quick way to become an outcast! …You know, I think the problem is: I like people. I believe in a lot of people, and you know, most all of them actually haven’t ever let me down. But most people don’t want you to believe in them. They want hollow compliments and empty promises so they don’t feel obliged to believe in you either, or to be a better person. For some reason, they have to believe you have ulterior motives. If I tell a girl she’s beautiful, what do they say? “Yeah right!” or “Creep!” Or “Stop trying to get into my pants!” If I say, “I like watching kids play in the park,” what is your immediate reaction? “Gee, this guys a fucking pedophile.” But why can’t I like it because I think it’s poetic and symbolic of the beauty of innocence and the future generation? Why do we have to assume I want to stick my dick in everything I think is lovely? I think people are amazing, if a bit in unevolved and misguided. Why is that so wrong? Why can’t people just like the things they like?