Existential anxiety causes verbal diarrhea.

I am an unwilling eavesdropper.

…in coffee shops, I hear—without wanting to—the conversations of those nearby and their monologues on the phone:

everyone now talks constantly on their phone, loudly, saying trivialities.

In other words, not only do I not enjoy hearing about the “pending ironing of clothes,” but it also irritates me.

Nor am I interested in what “the godmother said.”

Nor in the “leaky faucet that needs replacing.”

Nor in “headaches and constipation.”

Forty years as a doctor, headaches and constipation have occupied me enough: that’s enough.

And “numbness in the hands” and “unsteadiness in the legs,” too.

I’m sorry, I’m exhausted.

And geopolitical problems, as well.

I’ve reached a conclusion.

Everything is the Americans’ fault.

Everyone else is a saint.

I am insignificant and beg to be left alone in my insignificance. Whoever disturbs me in my corner, becomes my worst enemy.

I also declare myself progressive and conservative.

Not possible?

Please…it’s more than possible.

I mean, you’ve tolerated all sorts of political flip-flops, and my statement bothers you?

I’ll tell it to the New Democracy minister who was once the secretary of KNE.

But back to the phones: everyone says trivialities, and I rack my brain wondering why they say them publicly.

I’ve concluded that they have existential anxiety: they feel so insignificant that they try to convince themselves their lives have meaning.

That they are busy.

I don’t have such a problem. I am insignificant and idle, and I’m immensely happy about it.

Plato’s cave