Ever felt like killing people?
Not specific people mind you, nor people in general, but really any of the somewhat large group of people currently infront of you?
It's an odd feeling. Slightly more selfish than wishing to be invisible, actually resenting, in some small part, that these people are here and that they insist on talking to you. Or at you, as the case may be.
I takes a specific kind of person, I guess, to experience this odd sensation.
I know people who would choose a few words from their endless vocabulary of curses and tell them, in no kind terms, that they wish to be left alone. Not me.
Then there's people who blend into this kind of crowd. Genuinly nice. Also not me.
Me, I'm out of place. Pretty much everywhere. And not many see this, simply because nobody really wants to think someone doesn't have a place to fit into.
Be polite, do not show how tired useless talk makes you, and you'll find a response close to acceptance.
It was, if you must know, at a funeral that this feeling crept up on me. Of my girlfriends stepmother's cousin. I don't think even she cared, how could I be expected to?
She was expected to be here, and I, not being rude to them, was for some reason believed to like them, and treated as a part of the family - this I did not like, just so we're clear - and because of that, also expected to attent. I'm weak that way; I'll even go to a funeral I don't want to be at to avoid an unpleasant confrontation.
So there I was, in a black suit, sitting with a blank expression, hoping people will ignore me, fully aware this was not to be.
"There you are!" Why can't that one just die?
It was an aunt, or something like that, and she was talking to me about how lovely a boy he was. I can't really remember his name to be honest. She was big, in a way you can only get with a combination of genetics and not caring. Not that it mattered what she looked like, but at least I would have something to avert the boredom if she had been a hottie. But she wasn't, so there was nothing to prevent her from boring me to death. She had a piece of cheese stuck to the side of her mouth. It was disgusting. Ah, here comes the part where I have to respond; there's a tone, when being talked at that indicates you are expected to say something.
So I said "Hmm." in a deep, somber voice. It worked. She put her hand to her chest, nodded her head significantly, and went on.
"Yes, you're quite right or course, he always ...", she continued, and I blocked her out, reduced her rambling to white noise in the back of my mind. It didn't help much, still annoying. I wonder if there was a way to tell her about the cheese without being inapropriate. Certainly not while I'm supposedly listening to her ramble. Ah, it's coming to an end. Now to finish it off with a vague response.
"Yes, he will be missed." It would be so funny if she asked me if I knew his name.
So she goes on to bother the next person, with presumably the identical story. Not that I know what it is or anything. The ham looks good.
Another approach as I was going to get some ham. A man this time.
"Hey, you're Lucy's boyfriend, right?"
Lucy is my girlfriend. She doesn't bother me. I like that.
"Yes, that's me."
I wonder who this guy is.
"Quite a girl that one, quite a girl.", he went on, with an odd smile.
A bit lecherous, I wonder if he's a relative. Lucy will get a kick out of this. I guess I should be able to describe him to her. Old, 60 or something, gray hair, tall, too fit to have been born into it - either an army man or a fitness freak. I'd bet on the former, there's that tone to him.
"That she is."
"Ah, there's my wife waving me over, seems Grace has her cornered. I better go bail her out. Excuse me."
Grace is the name of that aunt, with a bit of cheese on her mouth.
Ah yes, the ham. Very good. And two glasses of wine, to give me an excuse to ignore people - can't keep Lucy waiting. I wonder what she's doing.
Talking to her stepmother, with a blank face, I wonder what she's thinking. Noticed. Would be rude to ignore them now. Walking towards them, I apologetically nod at people trying to talk to me.
Lucy's stepmother looks good, they could almost be sisters. There could be a good story there. A subtle hint of a smirk on Lucy's lips tells me she can almost read my mind.
"We really have to go, I mentioned the deadline I think?", Lucy using me as an excuse again. Not that I mind.
"Of course dear, so nice of you to come."
She lets out a loud sigh as we get into the car. "Thank god we got out of there. I almost wanted to kill them."
See, that's why I like her.