The water at the municipal pool on 4th is always too warm. It's like swimming in a lukewarm soup. I went there yesterday morning before the shift at the warehouse, and the chlorine smell was just... heavy. Everyone was staring at the ceiling. It’s a ridiculous way to spend an hour, really.
Anyway, why are you looking at me like that? I'm fine. It's just the lighting in here.
It’s not the lighting, Vic. You’ve been moping since you sat down. You probably just need to get moving, something to take the edge off. Like when my old boss at the print shop was going through that mess with his wife—he just threw himself into the overtime. It keeps your mind from drifting.
Moping? That’s a bit much. It’s just a heavy feeling in my chest, nothing more. And the print shop thing sounds exhausting. Why would you want to work more just to forget you have a life? That seems backwards. If he had too much work, he’d just be tired at the end of the day. I’m not tired, Frank. My mind isn't drifting. It's just... there. It's not like it's going anywhere.
If it's just a feeling, then stop sitting there wallowing in it. You're making a mountain out of a molehill. It's like you're waiting for someone to come along and lift the weight for you. You need to find a hobby or something to occupy your brain, or you'll just stay stuck in this loop.
A hobby? Like what? To pass the time until the next shift? That's a lot of effort just to stay busy. You make it sound like there's something to solve, but there isn't. It's just the way it is.
Besides, some people like the weight. It's solid. You can't just pick it up and put it down whenever you feel like going for a walk. Besides, you're being a bit loud about it.
"Just the way it is." That's the worst thing a person can say. It's an excuse to stop trying. You act like there's some deep wisdom in being heavy. My sister used to get like that, too—just sitting with her thoughts like they were precious. It didn't solve anything; it just made everyone around her restless.
Well, your sister isn't here, so why are you bringing her into this? It’s not like we’re all supposed to be sprinting somewhere. If being still makes people restless, that sounds like a 'them' problem, not a 'me' problem.
I didn't say it was wise. I just said it's the way it is. You're acting like I've given up on life because I'm not constantly chasing something. It's just sitting here, Frank. It's not an Olympic event.
It's a "them" problem until you're the one dragging own the mood. You can't just sit in the dark and call it a lifestyle. My cousin used to say the same, acting like his melancholy was some kind of profound state of being. He just ended up lonely. You need to find a rhythm, Vic. Really.
Your cousin sounds like he had a lot of time on his hands to judge people. And calling it a lifestyle? It's just sitting in a chair. If you want a rhythm, you can go listen to a metronome.
You keep talking about being lonely, but you're the one sitting here lecturing me like you're some sort of guide. If people want to be alone, they can be. It’s not a crisis. You’re being remarkably impatient.
I'm not lecturing, you're just being prickly. It's hard not to be impatient when you're staring into space like you're waiting for a miracle. It’s just a bit much to sit there and let the air go out of the room. You'll feel better once you actually do something productive. Give it a shot.
Productive? Like what? Sorting my socks or checking the mail? I did three hours of inventory at the warehouse before noon, and it certainly didn't make me a saint.
And you're so convinced that "doing something" is the cure for everything. It's such a loud way to live. Sometimes you just sit. It doesn't mean the air is leaving the room; it just means we're breathing a little slower. You should try it. You're practically vibrating.
I'm not vibrating, you're just making me tense. And inventory isn't "doing something," it's just clocking in. You're acting like a little bit of effort is a heavy lift. My father worked twelve-hour shifts at the mill and he didn't spend his breaks philosophizing about the weight of the atmosphere. He just got it done.