>Creepy gentleman in the hallway

>I have 15 minutes until Sociology, so I'm sitting in the hall squandering precious time I could be contemplating something deep or reviewing something important in my head with facebook, and this guy walks up and sits down in a chair directly across from me. I do an amazing job at avoiding any personal contact with any person at all in this school (including, but not excluded to: waves, hello's, eye contact, or telekenetic connectivity) but this kid has set out to destroy that vision.

He is staring straight at me.

I avoid his piercing glaze and try to imagine his eyes as vacuums and my soul having nothing to keep it tethered to my being. I can't handle this.

I focus my conciousness in his general direction, and realize that he is talking. What he is talking about I have absolutely no idea, it just sounds like a bunch of babble, mumbo-jumbo. I don't understand, so I listen closer and what I hear disturbs me to my core.

"yeah, boy just like that. atta boy keep that up"

WHAT? I cast a look in his direction, against my better judgement, and he sort of looks away, pitifully concealing the smirk that is so desperate to eek across his creepy lips.

So I got up and quickly (and unsensually as possible) walked away from him to my classroom where I sit now.

Not sure why I felt like telling you this. I just figured I needed to get it off my chest

Hamilton Barber

The subject of this page is an introverted writer/musician/lunatic from Chattanooga, TN who dabbles in lexical dexterity, unorthodox thoughts on prosperity, and being overwhelmingly undeserving of the privilege of waking up every day. He hopes that everybody who reads these words takes them to heart and leaps higher than he ever could. He reads, thinks, and speaks too much; he listens, works, and loves too little; and he says “I” entirely too often. The words on these pages are not his: they are the words that were given to him.