It starts as soon as the last class of the day has ended.

Their faces.

Not the faces of the ones I like, but the faces of the ones I dislike.

The empty ones. The apathetic ones. The rude ones. The ones who are unable to be original in any way, shape or form.

The ones who seem to be on this planet to eat, shop for clothes and to meticulously photograph a life that will never get into the history books. Their disturbing lackadaisical contentment whereas to me it always seems like the whole house is burning down.

Humans who are oblivious to the story of the species they are a member of.

Idiots in the purest sense of the word. Those who do not care about society.

I find them hard to tolerate.

They make me feel like a freak. They have always made me feel like the crazy misfit who wants to know.

Even my own wife regularly asks me: ‘So you know this and that, but does it make you any happier?’

Would not knowing make me so much happier?

If three weeks in a fucking all-in hotel on some sunny island could make me happy I would be there right now.

If going for an overpriced cup of coffee in a glitzy shopping mall could make me happy I would do it every day.

Why don’t the faces of the ones I like visit me? The ones who do care, who do know or want to know, the ones who seek to understand and make some sense of this absurd experience that is human life.

The disappointing ones come back and float around in my head laughing at all the useless facts in there.

Happy corporate rats.

In the end I think they haunt me for the same reason Nazi killers haunt me.

It’s this frivolous apathy that paves the way for mass murder.