I'll be honest; I've never been gifted with what you might call, "small talk". I have been cautiously driving through small talk oriented conversations without a clue, without directions, stressed out beyond belief; and it’s not really something you find mapped out in a recipe, step-by-step, how to manual. You know there's probably an app for that, but I'm not that great with technology either.

I am an artist, I can string sentences together into tapestries that could bring tears to your eyes and bring peace to your weary mind. I am a creator of legends; I breathe life into worlds of my creation with my words. My poetry is littered with metaphors and similes, word after word, phrase after phrase. Language is my paint and paintbrush and your mind is my canvas. Though, your question mark expressions say I've lost you, but watch my face mirror yours when you talk weather. In my mind I try to piece simple phrases together like a jigsaw puzzle, but I can’t find the edges, the picture doesn’t make sense, and nothing seems to fit.

I’m nervous and desperately trying to say a simple “how are you”, wondering when meaningless conversation became what mattered most. I see your mouth moving but nothing really seems to be coming out. Everyone constricted into a cookie cutter format, don’t read between the lines,in one ear and out the other conversations, keep it sweet and simple, no one is really listening, why bother talking at all? Every aspect of you is being scrutinized, the important first impression. “Taboo topics of the modern age”, is an ever lengthening list, and really it seems like I lost you at “hello”. I think I’d rather keep my mouth shut.

All this inconsistent blabbering, all inconsistent yammering that I don’t have time for, it’s too simple. Simple words with simple phrases that are often meaningless. Conversations filled with underfed sentences lacking any expansions of the mind and yet I am the one deemed unfit for society.When did the depth of conversation become the size of a kiddie pool? In my conversations, I want to hit the rock bottom of the biggest ocean. These ankle deep conversations are slowly seeping into my everyday conversations. Pushing me from ever wanting to deal with human contact, the preprogrammed “how are you? I’m fine. Have a good day!” slipping through the small gaps between my teeth. Unwillingly I conform to everything I’m against.

How has something so unbelievably empty and unfulfilling become so time consuming? Somehow this slow stream of mind garbage that’s being disposed of in conversation managed to replace conscious thoughts and ideas. This “Small Talk” that has taken over all forms of conversation has ruined the art of the spoken word and made the communication between people less than what it used to be. The connections between people created by the spoken word have been severed, no one seems to feels the loss and that is what frustrates me beyond belief.