Big Pussy

No, not him. Me. I'm the big pussy. And aways for the same reason: I watched this really touching movie called This Happy Breed based on a play by Noel Coward. It was the best-grossing movie of 1944 and spans the life of a British family between the two world wars, with all the joys and fears and trials they face. To cut a long story short, I bawled my eyes out when their son died, when their eldest girl ran away because she couldn't face her life and then again, when she came back. It was a disgusting, wimpy display.

I...just...can't....face....realism. The delicate fabric of emotions and humanity that binds people together and runs through this sordid consciousness we euphemestically refer to as life, always makes me feel like an outsider. I squint my eyes at it and try so hard to comprehend how people can accept it as naturally as they do a breath of air. But I never can.

In the words of Seinfeld, I'm clearly not human. I'm a pod.