Small talk. I despise small talk.
For some reason, thoughts about the weather, a randomly inserted joke… the triviality of all of it drives me crazy. I’d rather not say something unless there was something meaningful to say. I don’t care how many times I’ve seen you in the hallway today. I don’t care if we appear to be on the same bathroom schedule. I don’t care how humid you think it is. It’s Florida. Get over it. Sure, I’d like to hear the high-level description of your weekend, but I don’t really want to hear all the details, nor do I want to tell you all of mine.
Does that make me a bad person?
Often, I don’t know if this comes out of 1) my introversion and lack of desire to talk, 2) my depression and anxiety and lack of desire to talk, and/or 3) I’m just a total bitch. And, you know… lack of desire to talk.