So this is how it works. I don’t have the ego for a blog.
I can’t understand why anyone besides me would find me even remotely interesting.
But I keep doing this ’cause my Mr. Narcissism takes up the slack. Most of the time he’s what fuels me so I can write something as silly as a blog about me.
I mean, c’mon, right?
My Mr. Narcissism’s the guy at the party who’s way too loud, way too drunk, way too out there. He bustles energetically into the room, shouldering through everybody upsetting drinks and apologizing apologetically. He’s the guy you glom onto who sets himself up in the middle of the room and makes himself the center of attention even though eyes are rolling and heads and bodies are turning away, muttering sadly.
And even though he knows he’s probably spent, my Mr. Narcissism remains unfazed. For awhile, at least. He continues on droolingly, slatheringly, and drunkenly screaming EVERYBODY WANTS TO HEAR MY STORY, RIGHT??? while he’s gyrating wildly and dancing stupidly, until he passes out on the kitchen floor and I have to cover him up with a blanket.
Heaving a big sigh of relief, I look around blinking in the daylight and think and I say to myself that’s cool. Nobody’s really interested in my crap anyway, so in a way it’s a release, a slipping of the leash.
But just when I’m thinking about sneaking away and leaving all my bloggy friends behind he wakes up and my Mr. Narcissism winks at me and licks his lips and croaks- dude, let’s have a Bloody Mary.
And I’m right back in it.