The split of a second

The minute we line up for the same cashier at the supermarket. The split of a second our eyes meet and you smile at me is when I start thinking. That's when I first try to figure you out, to sort you into my list, to find a suitable category for you in my mind. Yes, I have everyone put into his own category in my mind. I ask myself if you do the same. I wonder if you'd ever think of something as vague as my love for tea. I wonder if you'd relate to the fact that I prefer books to movies because they don't show you the cruel truth but let you imagine it youself. They leave the level of brutality, cruelty and ugliness as well as beauty up to you. I try to hate this shallow world, but whenever I try too hard I come across a reason why I shouldn't. I even try to hate people like you but then again I end up envying you for being so damn carefree. I know that you're probably not, but still I'd like to believe that so I'd be able to find a reason to hate you later on. I love guys who crack jokes all the time yet I can't help but feel some kind of awe for those who know how to be serious and act all mature. I think lies are why the world is still standing on its feet. I think ignorance can kill you. I'd like to believe injustice is why I want to hate the world. I don't know why we think we're different  from animals. And I think the reason why we were born is just as insignificant as that polite smile of yours that brought this whole thing up.