Drought

The honest truth was that he was at odds with almost everything and everyone.  There was no one he knew of that he didn’t dislike in some way and so it was that he related not with others but with the things he hated about them.  It was as if he attempts at relating were always glancing off the other, deflecting in some way, as if his attention and that of his interlocutors were always missing each other in flight.  The difficulty for him was that he could not escape the trap of knowing what he disliked in others.  Others, of course, were enmeshed in the same conflict and so, after all, there was this undeniable sense of relational drought.  What was the lesson in this?  Something, somehow, had to change.