I Hate You All

November 21st, 2005 | by jg3 |

You are gross. You know who you are. You are obese, even if not physically overweight (although statistically your children probably are). Your smile is a grimace as you lift heavy bags of new belongings from the cargo space of your extra-large vehicle into your oversized .

I don’t know you. I don’t have to know you. Your actions speak louder than your words. I don’t want to know you. I don’t want to be invited to your lavish party.

I don’t have to know you. You know yourself. You are not conflicted about your goals. “It’s just me,” you say. And I agree.

I do not envy your wealth. I am not jealous of your accumulation. I think it is all fodder for a landfill sooner than you may think. I am not spiteful of your success. I am not uncomfortable about your happiness. I am only sad that you feel that you feel that you must take so much to be satisfied.

You say, “It’s kind of stupid,” like you’re telling us something.

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