I touch myself (When I think about you me)

The down side of narcissism is that you are always preserving the self which hardly leaves time for meaningful connections.

The up side is, since your busy preserving yourself, you don’t notice. And when you do, there is a some pills/drinks/sex for that.

You see, its all about what I think and not what I do, that matters. 

I think I should talk to that hot person standing over there. I think they looked at me. I think I would look good with them at my side in the movie that is me.

But I don’t. And I won’t. Just like I think I should exercise more when I notice the fat. But I don’t. I may buy gym memberships, weights, DVD’s...but I will never use them.

I have no intention of trying. Only planning endlessly to try (Also called: Obsessing). In fact I will devour the entire bag of potato chips instead of exercising. That way, I can always be trying. Infinitely trying. I hate me. And...the failure keeps the story going.

Since what I actually do doesn’t matter, only what I think, I can now preserve this moment, make it into a summer blockbuster, by telling someone.

Thats what stories are for. To have more of me told to more of you.

(In narcissism believing something is preferable to doing something because the former is about you and the latter is about everyone else.)

This is a tragic comedy of course because that is what is inevitable and anything else would require work on my part. Fuck. That. 

The original story is 5 acts.

Act I. Introduction/exposition

Act II. Rising action

Act III. Climax

Act IV. Falling action

Act V. Denoument or what the fuck was that all about?

Every story after that is a repeat...

In this case the climax is NOT I saw a hot girl or she saw me or we saw each other. The climax is I didn’t do anything about it.

And the ACT V that sustains me to do the sequel ad nauseam is that I choose to self loathe so that I can in fact fail. Failing, especially on purpose, is easy work. A girl that actually says hi to any advance I can muster?...that is hard. What now...?

Obsessing and ruminating is a skill at which we are all tremendously accomplished, and admittedly that feels like mental work because it's exhausting and unrewarding, but I can no more ruminate my way through a life crisis than a differential equation. Brainstorming is NOT work. Its mental masturbation. 

So is dreaming. Someday, someone is going to somehow know just know how awesome I really am....and not this joke I am now... Oh, the lies we tell ourselves.

The mistake is in thinking that misery and self-loathing are the "bad" things you are trying to get away from with Ambien and Abilify or drinking or therapy or whatever, but you have this completely backwards. Self-loathing is the defense against change, self-loathing is preferable to actual mental work.

 You choose misery so that nothing changes, and the Ambien and the drinking and the therapy placate the misery so that you can go on not changing. That's why when you look in the mirror and don't like what you see, you don't immediately crank out 30 pushups, you open a bag of chips. You don't even try, you only plan to try. The appearance of mental work, aka masturbation.   

The goal of your ego is not to change, to preserve itself. It thinks its you and you are it. But you are only what you do.

And scene,

N.