30 March 2011

March 30, 2011

I think it’s probably like this: Everyone thinks they’re in a story. And the thing is, you’re a character in that story too, in their story. You have a place, a role. You’re the funny guy. You’re the serious guy. You’re the agitator. And once they figure that out, once they get you, it’s easy for them to stop listening. To fit everything you do or say into the character they’ve made for you.

Once we know someone’s function, we don’t want to be surprised.

This morning, I heard a guy read a text message out loud that he’d gotten from his wife. I didn’t know him, but I thought the message was nice enough. It had the word ‘handsome’ in it. He was using it to show his buddies what a nag she was, his wife, always checking in on him and whatever, sending him messages. I wondered what type of husband this guy was that he would read his wife’s messages out loud like that, loud enough for strangers to hear. I wondered If he really thought his life was so insulated.

A few years ago, my bag got stolen out of my car. It had my journal in it, and I felt like two years of my life had just been erased. Among other things, it was freeing.

Last night, in literature class, the girl next to me was saying something about web cams, something about charging by the hour. I don’t know how it came up. I was looking through my notes, pretending to not be listening. The guy next to her asked if she took credit cards and she said yes, then he said he’d like to watch her cook.

I haven’t liked that guy all semester. I still don’t like him. But I thought his answer was incredibly kind. He didn’t make her feel ridiculous like I probably would have, trying to do the right thing.

I think, mostly, we’re always wrong about people.

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