Miserable People.

The Echoes
Wave One (v1.00)
THE HOUSE OF ZAN — Zan

I don’t like ants, among other things.

The only thing they have going for them is that they can’t hurt me as much as a lot of other insects.

Even though I don’t like them, I can still observe them and find something interesting in what they do, and maybe how that can, or can’t, relate to people.

Because apparently, why the hell not.

A single ant, despite its size and squeezableness, can still be impressive in what it can accomplish.

Some ants can lift around 50 times their own body weight.

For comparison, a 200-pound human carrying 50 times their weight would be moving around 10,000 pounds.

That’s some heavy shit to wrap your head around.

Literally, in their case, since they’re carrying most of it with their jaws.

Nevertheless, I’m not interested in focusing on the accomplishments of just one ant.

I want to look at the colony.

Because this isn’t titled Miserable Person.

It’s called Miserable People.

See, you can remove one ant and the colony keeps moving.

They do not need every individual to be the most important thing.

They only need every individual to understand that the colony matters.

Humans have spent thousands of years building societies around this same idea.

Yet somehow, when people need each other the most, that is often when they become determined to prove they do not.

Let’s (motion) picture a typical scene in my life.

Imagine myself and another person or two suspended on the side of a cliff in a fully loaded Winnebago.

The kind of Winnebago where someone has somehow managed to fit a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom, a living area, and a completely unnecessary amount of stuff into something that is basically a tiny apartment with wheels.

Man, I sure would like a Winnebago.

I mean, I wouldn’t want to drive one, make payments on it, or live my life in what is essentially a fancy moving trailer.

I just like the idea of owning one.

Which is probably the most realistic relationship anyone has with a Winnebago, wanting the fantasy of it, like putting a tiny truck camper on the back of a pickup, while wanting absolutely nothing to do with the reality of owning one.

It’s like putting Eeyore’s tail back on with a thumbtack and saying, “Problem solved.”

Meanwhile, everyone is still standing there looking at a depressed donkey who definitely does not have Donkey from Shrek’s healthcare package.

Anyway, I digress.

In that moment, I realize something.

This isn’t a superhero movie.

There is no Superman or Spider-Man showing up to swoop in and save everyone in some heroic fashion.

No, of fucking course not.

Because it’s my life.

So naturally, it’s going to be one of those “based on a true story” award-season movies.

You would think that, with a couple of people stuck in the same impossible situation, the obvious solution would be to work together.

You know, so we don’t fucking die.

No.

Not at all.

I’ll spare the details, but I imagine the last hour on Earth would probably become a nonstop argument about whose fault it was, why it wasn’t their fault, and how something someone did 10 years ago somehow led to this exact bullshit situation.

As far as we know, this is not something that happens in ant colonies.

If I had to break it down to the simplest, stupidest explanation possible, it might come down to this:

Ants do not seem to view themselves as individuals separate from the colony.

They are part of something larger.

They work toward the survival of the colony because the survival of the colony is tied to their own.

Yes, this happens in human society, of course.

But again, back to the title.

This isn’t called Miserable Society.

It’s called Miserable People.

Pay attention, please.

It’s these people.

It could be anyone.

I don’t have the benefit of Roddy Piper’s peepers from They Live to identify them either.

I usually find out about them at the worst possible time.

Like, it could be when I’m feeling myself.

You know.

A little more confident.

A little more cute.

A little more spicy.

I don’t know, something closer to what I want to feel and less of what I must be for the betterment of whoever occupies my present at that given moment.

Then, without warning, they say something that just turns the tide on me.

Just knocks me right off my beautifully crafted pedestal.

I mean, I don’t care how my actions affect them when they are already trampling all over my vibes, no matter what my usual standards might be.

So what if I told them how I really feel about how they are making me feel?

I deal with a lot emotionally, and I don’t need other people getting in the way of me processing the chaotic masterpiece that is this embodiment.

I mean, the fucking nerve, am I right?

Hmm…

You’re right.

I’m not sure that was the point I was trying to make there to wrap this whole thing up in a way that favors my perspective.

Kinda makes me feel a little small.

Like an ant, again.

Those fucking ants!

See what they caused now?

It’s always some asshole thinking they are right about something and blowing it out their ass for the world to suffer through.

All because they are miserable around certain people when they express themselves in a certain way that is counterproductive to getting things accomplished for the betterment of the collective whole.

I mean, why can’t people just forgo their own bullshit and indulge in mine?

I want to feel BIG.

Big like a Winnebago Man!

Hmm…

I guess I should have called it Miserable Asshole.

Will you do me a kindness?

Let’s just forget we had this conversation.

Resonance: Jack Rebney

The Echoes · Wave One

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