the truth hurts

I'm a loser and although I hate it, I can't deny it. For example, last night I was home alone as usual bored out of my mind. Not that I didn't have ample school work to do or global issues to resolve or books to read, but none of those options were able to scratch my itch. So guess what did? Watched the friggin' Bachelor. I can't believe I admitted to watching that show. The entire premise of the show goes against my moral fiber. Yet, at 9:00 p.m. on a lonely Monday night it captures my attention. So I gaze on in complete disbelief at these 30 seemingly beautiful women who are so desperate they trust a TV show to find them true love...with a man who has already had his chance at a previous harem of equally beautiful women and denied them all. And so the judgments immediately begin. Which one has fake boobs? Which one has fake hair? Which one is an utter psychopath? But I do this without making or even attempting to make myself feel better, just merely as a fact-finding exhibition. The on-screen humiliation concludes and I slink off to bed (my favorite place). And I'm lying there thinking about these women and this man - of course making more judgments. Then it hits me like a ton (or ten tons) of wet, slushy horse shit, I was (in a sick and twisted way) like them. I just didn't do it on TV. I've spent a great majority of my life looking for someone, something to love and for someone, something to love me back. I've allowed myself to fall for people and ideas before I even really knew all the headlines, let alone the details. It's romantic. It's ingrained. It's instinctual. And it made me feel really bad about myself and the people involved in that show. Hence, I made a change in my perspective. I added a clause to my personal zen. I want to love and will love without needing or wanting love in return. Hopefully, this will inspire me to love myself enough that I won't give a crap if anyone else notices me or not. I'm happy when I make, in part or sum, other people happy.

I've always had this unrealistic phobia of being alone. Even when I was a tiny child I can remember crying and begging for my parents to NOT make me go to my room alone. I would pick-up the telephone in my room and dial random numbers until someone answered. And I would talk to them until they would no longer entertain the idea of chatting with a more or less attention seeking little brat. I'm pretty sure they thought it was an attention thing and yea, maybe it was/is, but I can't shake this crippling fear of being alone. I can deal with silence as long as there is another life-form present. Needless to say, living alone is a challenge. I find myself at the gym or at the Target all too often. I also find myself in bed quite a bit as well. I have plants, but they aren't apparently alive enough for my standards. I love animals, but I'm not in the right place to have a pet. Basically, I'm screwed. But as I like to say, without pain there is no growth.