You see,
sometimes,
you can only handle
a little bit of trouble,
a tidbit,
not a whole,
irritating basket of it.
Sometimes,
you can manage a small inconvenience
a tiny irritation.
You’re the whole basket, baby.
Okay, so no one tells you,
that the braying of your voice hurts their ears,
the ignorance of your opinions hurts their brains,
the narcissism of your monopolizing every conversation
just makes them want to scream at you,
to
just
shut
up.
(That would surely hurt your feelings,
and you want to be nice).
Instead,
you just aren’t invited to the party.
Your presence is a pain that is more pleasant to avoid
if it’s at all possible.
What to do
when you learn of an event and you’re sad to be left out?
What to do, indeed.
Sometimes
you can suck it up and face the pain,
but sometimes,
you can’t.
.
.
.
(Deliberately playing with the subject of the ‘you’ throughout this poem about a catch-22 situation).
