A few weeks ago I was sitting in a café before school, reading the last pages of Dickens’ Hard Times. Around 9 o’clock, a group of people came in. I knew all of them. I knew which school they’re in, which class they’re in and I knew their names. Some of them I’ve even already talked to, but that was a long time ago. Too long apparently for them to remember. I did not really care, most of them ignored me already before and didn’t respond to a simple hello. So I kept on reading.
Ten minutes later some more people came in. Again, I knew all of their names. Some of them I’ve already paid a drink, but they ignored me, too. I was quite happy about that, I had no interest in talking to them, I simply know too many crazy things about them.
One of that second group of people came towards me, C. He asked me if I could move to another table, so he and his friends could put some tables together. Long story short, I moved. He was kind and I had no reason to refuse his request.
His friends started telling him he shouldn’t mither other people. But although I had just done something he had asked me to, I felt superior. I knew who he was, I even have a video of him getting drunk, and he obviously had no idea who I was. Call me weird, strange, crazy, or whatever, but I enjoy knowing things about other people who don’t know anything about me. I could have answered something like ‘well Mr W. if you’re asking me that kindly, I can’t refuse’, but I chose not to. I prefer the silence and gathering of some more information.
Knowledge is power. Some day I will rule you all. :-)