Conversation

“Why are people so mean to each other?” I asked, 

for some reason realizing all at once how utterly stupid it was 

to ever be (quote unquote) “bad”

to someone else. 

“Why would you ever make fun of someone else for who they are or what they like? 

Why would you ever do that?” 

Maybe they were childlike questions, 

but they were questions that demanded to be asked. 

“I don’t know,” my friend said.
“I think people just take facts or statements and make them pointed.

Like, seriously, okay,

Let’s say you’re doing something and you look goofy. 

Like, that’s just a thing that’s happening.

It’s just an occurrence. An event.

But, then, I can, like, easily stain it with my opinion.

Oh, look at that chick, she walks so weird, she looks so dumb.

I don’t know. I don’t know why.

We think our thoughts are important

but they’re irrelevant.” 

“Okay, like, here’s an example.

We were just riding our bikes and you were riding in front of me

and you looked so Katy-Joy Vaughan.

I was just thinking, you know, that’s totally you.

You looked like a rag doll peddling as hard as it could.

And there’s nothing to really think about that,

it’s just an observation.

Why would I look at you and pervade your existence

with my petty thoughts?

What gives me the right?”

“Does this really matter or is it because we ate those shrooms?” I asked her.
“Why would eating shrooms make this less true? Why would not eating shrooms make it more true?” 

“Why is it so important to people that we don’t eat shrooms? Why would we go to jail for that?”
“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t they want me to experience this?”

“I don’t know.”