Reality Check

I have not had a date in five years. No one is pining for me, no matter how much I want it to be true.

J. is not lying when she says she doesn’t remember me. She is honest and a good person. She has no reason to lie.

I am basically alone.

I am not a good writer. If I was my blog would be popular and I would have heard back from publishers. I will never make a living at writing. I am just not any good at it.

I work a part time job that is embarrassing.

I have no athletic talent at all. I did not play sports in high school because I was not good enough.

I walk funny. I am fat. I am uncoordinated. I am average looking, with a big bumpy nose, neck fat, and a big gut. That is reality.

I am friendly. I am usually kind.

I like kind, friendly people.

I am attracted to pretty blondes, no matter their age.

I am lonely.

I am not reading nearly as much as I would like to lately.

Some people in AA like me.

My home group in AA generally likes me.

None of the women I have ever gone out with think of me today other than possibly a passing thought.

Every woman I ever went out with and cared about broke it off with me.

I am shy.

I am arrogant if left unchecked.

I am weak in terms of lifting weights. It is embarrassing and people laugh at me because of it.

C. does not want to be with me. She made that clear.

R. does not want to be with me. She couldn’t have made that more clear.

L. does not want to be with me. She doesn’t think of me and does not want to go out with me.

I am lonely.

I think I am smarter than the average American, but not as smart as the average doctor.

I like my green eyes.

I like my brown hair; the color, the thickness, but not the way it is hard to manage.

My hair grows fast and I look forward to getting a haircut every three weeks. It is always one of the highlights of the week.

I like talking to and sometimes flirting with cute, young waitresses.

Sometimes they flirt back but that is just their job. And maybe sometimes they do think I’m cute, too.

I am a failure.

I like to go to the movies.

There are not enough hours in the day.

Summertime is depressing because everybody is having so much more fun than I am.

There are no cameras in my apartment.

There are no cameras in my car.

I cannot hear the people down the hall talking about me after I post something to my blog. Those are voices.

People on the street do not know who I am and if they knew what I was thinking would think me strange.

I am lonely.

I am good at several things but great at nothing.

My penis is completely average in every way.

I have a massive belly that is so big I can’t see my penis when I urinate.

Some people like me.

Some people do not like me.

D. would be surprised that I know her name. I think she is too skinny but attractive and sad in an appealing way.

I wish I was a good writer.

I wish I had money.

I wish E. was happier.

I sometimes want to die.

I sometimes feel happy.

I am lonely and will always be lonely.

My life is a failure.

Dad was a good man and a bad man, too.

I love A. so much I want to hug him right now.

I love Rudy a lot. She is a wonderful cat, though not as much fun as Cousy. Much better than Hank, though.

I wish I was in love.

I wish I had someone’s hair to brush, cheek to caress, bottom to touch, feet to rub, eyes to look into. I do not.

I sometime wish I was dead.

I am a good person.

I am sad.

I wish I wasn’t delusional.

My voices, my "chatter" make me feel important when no one else cares. They keep me company when there is no one else around to talk to.

J. does not remember me. That is a fact. I cannot think of a reason she would lie.

I like to post to my blog but maybe I shouldn’t. It may be making my voices worse.