I have a neighbor. Let’s call him Max. Max, well, he… probably lives alone. I really can’t tell, you know? It’s not like I watch his house 24/7, waiting to see who mows the lawn. He has weird people coming over all the time, so you can’t really blame me for not knowing who actually lives there or who’s a guest.
I sometimes feel bad for Max. He seems so oblivious to the world around him. Like the other day, I saw him talking to a bee. He was talking to a bee. He was walking from his house to his car and saw a bee sitting on top of his car, so I guess he thought it was a good idea to talk to the creature; that wasn’t even the weird part. He pushed his finger towards the bee to, I assume, pet the bee, when he was stung. Max yelled out, and eventually got into his car, and drove away to who knows where. I’d like to think it was a secret society full of Max’s. Or maybe he does yoga or something.
Of course, there is a limit to how bad I feel for Max. Once, last summer, he threw a party. Of course, this was around the time he first moved in, so anyone would logically assume that he barely knows anyone and wouldn’t have that many people to invite. Max doesn’t seem like the type to let just anyone into his home. I once saw him combing the grass blades in front of his house with a broom to face a certain direction. I asked him why, and he said it made his home look aesthetically pleasing.
A lot of people showed up. It’s not like the guy just moved from the next town over. He moved from Utah or something. How can someone meet that many people and like them enough to invite them to a party in under two days? Max was a miracle worker.
Of course, my parents think he’s insane; so do a lot of people actually. At the last block party, the nosy, old lady across the street, who always peeks from behind her curtain, even said he was an odd species. She said she doesn’t want anything to do with him because every interaction with Max leaves you with more questions than answers. Not just about Max, but about the world, and how it functions with having someone like Max in it.
If you think about it, it’s kind of mind-blowing. The world has been functioning for thousands and thousands of years, and I could have been living in the same time period as many inspiring people. I, somehow, am living in the same time period as Max. I guess Max is inspiring in a way. He views the world differently and eats pizza by rolling it into a spiral. Maybe I’m better off living next to Max. It’s better than a serial killer or someone of the sort. Who knows? Maybe he’ll live to do great things. You do you, Max. You do you.