SHUT THE FUCK UP

My venting about my housemate's habit of babbling pointlessly at me in the morning was so well-received that I thought you guys might enjoy an essay I wrote a few months ago:

People like to talk, they really like making noises with their mouths. They talk talk talk all the fucking time, rarely saying anything of interest of value EVEN TO THEM, just fucking reading labels out loud or narrating the events around them "the dog is looking at me, oh man now he's going up the stairs, bye dog! I'm going to have a cup of coffee. There's a bird outside the window, oh nope he flew away. The sun is out today. Haha this bottle of syrup is funny! I think I'll read the ingredients..." on and on and on FOR NO FUCKING REASON other than that perhaps if they stop FUCKING TALKING their brains might switch on and they might have a moment of wondering what the hell all this is about, anyway, and what they're doing with their lives besides being another cog in the machine. Maybe if they stop talking the universe starts pressing in on them and they begin to become aware of how tiny, how meaningless, how insignificant, and above all how lonely they are.

Worse yet, their chatter infringes on any thinking anyone else might do, as well as triggering routine responses to complete fucking inane prattle that needn't have been said in the first place, more inane prattle, back and forth endlessly forever until they plunk their stupid vapid asses in front of some stupid fucking mind-wasting TV program, which they can then TALK ABOUT later.

Talking, talking, talking. I wish I could cut their fucking stupid tongues out of their hollow heads, but then you know what would happen; they would grunt and wave their arms around all the time, just to make a noise and get you to look at them, not caring that nobody understands. That's basically the same thing they're doing now.

SHUT THE FUCK UP.

If you try to tell them that you're not big on talking, that you like quiet, that you like being left alone, that you need peace so you can think, 99% of the time the fucking retard population that we call "humanity" will switch into autopilot and interpret that as the one possibility they're capable of understanding; that you need to be cheered up. So they amp up the painfully boring vapid narrative by trying to make it clever and funny, until you actually ARE in a bad mood and start fantasizing about hitting them with a hammer, over and over again, until there is only blood and pulp and fragments of bone. Because that's the only way you can make them stop. Even if you tell them, listen asshole, SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE, I HATE YOUR STUPID CHATTER, they will slink away all wounded for a couple of days, complain to all their friends about what a bastard you are, and then come back and try to make up. And as soon as you grant them any attention, any hint that you might not be about to punch them in their moronic flapping mouths, a smile or a bit of conversation or even just a moment of eye contact, they start again, talking talking without saying anything at all.

SHUT

THE

FUCK

UP

Stop talking.

Stop talking about some goddamn TV show

Stop talking about your cat

Stop talking about the weather

about what you're eating

what you see out the window

whatever

Stop... just stop.