Softly Slammed Doors

Seth H. Monroe



It’s not me. I find you fairly inconsiderate to my needless preconditioned automatic defense mechanisms. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for one night of contrived servitude even though I’m not the prime example of someone who deserves softly slammed doors. I haven’t felt anything in some time and your ecstasy is leaving me feeling low. It seems like you and the crowd you keep know how to intercept negative energies for the sake of the party. Pardon me for attempting to interrupt. I’ve nothing left save for my expanding boredom. Maybe we could trade living spaces for a fixed amount of time and income. I just want us to relate to nothingness. It’s not that we’re less than nothing so much as we are blood drunk from trying to feel anything. There’re at least a few inhabitants, who given half the chance would ask to be the new roommate. Your methods are very thorough and well documented and that is why I approach these matters haphazardly. I trust that when the wet season concludes, you will gradually lessen the severity of your deluges and dirges. I urge you to act now while the spirits roam unburdened.