Idiots. Idiots everywhere. Springing up like wildflowers.

I probably would be more of a people person if I weren’t surrounded by idiots.

I’d still be an introvert, mind. But at least I would be happy to silently sit in a corner drawing or sharpening swords or something as everyone else interacted.

As it stands, 90% of my social time is spent in silent suffering.

And you can’t defeat them with snark, because they’re bitchy little crybabies, or with sarcasm, because they’re idiots.

And apparently they don’t take kindly to being reminded of it.

Go figure.

I mean, I suppose their existence is as tortuous as they make mine. After all, how many times can you hit your own cock with a brick or get lost on the way to the bathroom before it starts hurting?

Maybe this problem could sort itself out.

On the other hand, idiots seem to have…