Crazy People

There's this thing about crazy people...you can see it. There's something in the eyes, or the tone of voice, or the words they use that lets you know something isn't right.
I give people like that a wide berth, step back and to the side as I skirt around them, giving them plenty of room as I get away as quickly as I can. I don't want to be there when the inevitable explosion happens. I don't want to see it, hear it, or be stung by the shrapnel.

Which is why I don't understand the people who poke crazy folks with sharp sticks. Do they not realize what they're dealing with or is their goal to push the person till they're climbing a tower with a high-powered rifle?

Whatever the reason I've noticed the human behavior of ganging up on the crazy, who may have started out as garden variety quirky. It's bullying at it's best.

I keep thinking of school shootings and how commentators ponder why young people don't realize that high school is temporary. In some ways, high school never ends.