I don’t like myself. I love who I am and believe I have an important role to play in this world. I just can’t stand to be alone anymore. The nagging desire to stop breathing coupled with guilt for feeling this way consumes most of my conscious hours. I compose chants about my worthlessness and mantras focused on getting by, one step at a time. Spurts of bravery and recklessness cause me to reach out either to existing acquaintances or new people. Success rates are low in both categories. Some individuals seem promising from time to time but most of them are lonely halves of a monogamous couple. Chatting with me must remind them what it’s like to be interesting.

I’m considering a new approach. I’ll run ads that specifically detail what I want from the encounter. Everything from prescribed sexual deviance to board games. Come over, have sex in 3 pre-approved positions and leave before I have time to get my clothes back on. Another guest could be invited to sit and eat a steak dinner I’ve prepared and their job is bringing the wine. I might just set up instructions to come smoke a bowl with me and then leave when I say I’m tired. The lack of substance in this method is still better than my current isolation. I was a social cripple in Memphis and things are no better in Seattle. I’m just more prepared for the rejection this time.

Once I find at least one person that can validate my existence I might be able to crawl out of this morass. As it stands I feel like every day is one more wasted chance to end my suffering. A throbbing ache at the base of my skull, consistently reminding me how unsuccessful I am. All attempts to express myself come across as whiny teenage bullshit. The people that offer hugs and support only see me once every few weeks. They believe in me. They are always sure I’ll do great. None of them ever ask me what I’m doing. Mostly they just have faith in good will and I try to accept the blessing, even if its based on ignorance.