have you ever wanted to write something, just because you like typing? it occurred to me that there are times when i have such an urge to write, but what it actually is is that i just want to type. i like the motion of it, the flow. does that make me weird? ok, so maybe it does, but there are so many other things about me that are so much more weird, that i’m not going to worry to much about this one, little thing. if nothing else, it forces me to write and writing is good. it’s something i don’t do nearly enough of.

so, since i’m here, typing… uh, i mean writing, what the hell am i going to write about? of course, there are topics that i could cover. i mean, the standard topics that seem to make up the majority of my entries. even my stories have the same general theme: what the hell is wrong with me? on the one hand, its such a fun and exciting topic, i really shouldn’t want to write about anything else, right? yeah, i know. even the things that are wrong with me aren’t interesting. even my issues and dilemmas are dull. you’d think, at the very least, if i was going to be given a psychosis, it would have been more interesting.

like multiple personality disorder. now, that’s what i’m talking about. not only do the symptoms get people’s attention, but even the name sounds good, multiple personality. not only would that be interesting to people, but when there weren’t people around (which is quite often for me), i’d still have people to talk to. as it stands now, most of the time the only one i have to talk to is myself. don’t get me wrong, i enjoy talking to myself, but let’s be honest, it’s not much of a conversation. without multiple personalities, it’s really just thinking out loud. and i do that ALL the time: at work, in the car, at home. i’ve even been known to do it when there are other people around.

is that because, even with people around, i have no one to talk to? or is it because i’m so used to not having people to talk to, that when there are, i don’t know how to react…? well… now, that’s an interesting thought, one i’ve never had before. maybe through the course of my life i’ve gotten so used to being a loser, all by myself, that when i’m not, i don’t know how to deal with it. wow! who needs a shrink! i can do this all by myself. i grew up feeling like no one really understood me, so i began talking to myself. well, as it turns out, i still don’t really know if there is anyone that understands me.

as a matter of human nature, i think, people tend to shun what they don’t understand. how is it, then, that i’ve managed to be the exception? how is it there are people, apparently, that seem to think i’m great? it can’t be that it just happens that nearly all the people i meet are strong willed enough to deal with what they don’t understand. no, i don’t think so. what i think is this; people keep me around because i make them feel so much better about themselves. with the exception of maybe one or two people, everyone i know, hell just about everyone i’ve ever met is far more well adjusted than myself.

it seems to me, then, that i’m a useful tool for others. at the end of the day, they can look at me and feel pretty good about themselves. pretty much everyone i know seems better off than myself. it’s like the school bully syndrome… for adults. people don’t bully me, it’s not polite. it’s not civilized.instead, people have developed a much more politically correct system, a much more evolved system. they befriend the loser. that way, no matter how bad they’re feeling about themselves, they can always look at the loser and smile. ‘damn, i’m doing pretty well. i’m good. yea me.’ i would be willing to guess that every group of people (friends, whatever) has the token loser. looking around, in my head, at my group… oh, yeah, i’m definitely the loser…. i’m a bit curious to see how many times i can call myself a loser in this entry. i’m a loser; that makes it eight times so far. damn i’m good.

i can joke (i sure can. i am a master of self-deprecation), but the idea of being the token loser of my group is not a pleasant thought, even if it is an accurate one. sure they laugh at me and my jokes, but all the while they’re thinking, “awww, isn’t he sad and pathetic?” yes. yes i am. so then, i guess the next question to arise is, why the hell would i hang out with people who think i’m a loser, who keep me around because i’m a loser? well, the quick answer is this: even losers need friends.

i think of those shows, those movies, in which the loser would go out of his way with the popular crowd: do their homework, laugh at their jokes about him, etc. i’m that guy, except without the homework. the harder that guy tried to fit in, the more out of place he felt. that’s me too. (can i just say here that i started out with nothing to say and i’ve written over a page. i think i’m getting better at this pointless writing thing) so now the question is this; do i continue to subject myself to loser status, or do i simply move on?

ok, maybe not move on, so much as quit. i look in the mirror every morning hoping to see someone else, but every morning i see the same thing. i see the loser. i think i’ve been the loser for so long that i don’t even know if i’m really bothered by it anymore. that’s not to say, however, that i’m willing to let others benefit from my loser status. i don’t like moochers and i don’t like giving free rides. i mean, what do i get out of this arrangement? oh yeah, i get to go home at the end of the day and feel crappy. i get to go home at the end of the day, only to do it all again the next day. i get to go home at the end of the day and feel used, while everyone else goes home feeling satisfied. i get to go home at the end of the day and watch my roommate and his girlfriend fondle each other. ok, so i threw that last one in just for spite, but it’s true….

nearly everyone i know has sex on a fairly regular basis, but i’m just about the only one that smokes. what’s that about? i thought a cigarette after sex was part of the ritual, part of the experience. i’ve never had sex and i smoke like a chimney. maybe my substantial cigarette expenditure is a subconscious way for me to make up for, a way to off set, my 27 years of virginal status? i don’t know what made me think of that, but it’s interesting. they should do a study looking into the percentage all smokers who are of single virginal men….

back to the topic at hand. i’ll finish by saying this; i’m not saying these things to offend anyone. in the course of writing this, no one in particular came to mind. i do, in fact, have a few close friends who i would never include in this observation. it’s a general feeling. tomorrow i could feel completely different about the whole thing. but for now, this is my state of mind.