Stream of consciousness. I was just trying to play piano in an empty house.

There’s a stranger in my house
And I don’t know who he is
We chatted for awhile
and the mandate of this house is
to have an open door—
a sort of “come as you are” policy
but this guy comes in boasting about how interesting he is supposed to be

And i’m like
kay

I was playing piano,
enjoying the rare opportunity to be completely alone
in this house of many occupants
and I try to engage in minor conversation
as you drop off your cargo

then try to stand my ground, to do my own thing
but i am programmed to respond in a way that doesn’t jive with the attitude I want to project, and
I’m not impressed

by your jazzy piano stylings or your
stories of being #blessed
and if you have a sense of humour it’s bland and it must be buried
barely giggling at my jokes, my offerings of decency but

you just have to install yourself in my living room
like you live here or have the right to be here

oooh you’ve been here before
oooh you want to borrow our book on marx
oooooh

Great, you live in a van.
great, you recognize your own privilege
Great you went to school for music AND carpentry
and YES there is part of me that is attracted to part of you BUT
no way am I putting up with this bullshit

You make yourself at home IN MY HOME
WHILE I’M OCCUPYING A SPACE
and MAKE IT YOUR FUCKING OWN
taking every opportunity to talk about yourself and then when I ask questions, say
how dry you find it to answer questions about yourself as if you are the first person to have encountered this phenomenon.

Guess what?????
The more nonchalant and aloof you are, the more I DON’T CARE
and the LESS IMPRESSED I become
and the more I want
to KICK YOU OUT of my HOME
I don’t care if you left your sunglasses here.
Who do you think you are?

Why don’t I have the guts to go back downstairs and tell you what’s what?
My desire to avoid conflict?
My desire to please?
My empathy and my guilt?
My social conditioning?
My emotional exhaustion?
My acceptance and embracing of our house’s mandate? (which I really DO stand behind)
I don’t know why exactly.

I just know that I don’t want you to be here.
And I don’t know how to tell you that.

Kindly fuck off, dude.

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