I need a third pet, this new cat, because I truly cannot foresee what would happen to my fragile psyche if I just left my two geriatric pets to expire with no new recuits. I need someone who relies on me so that I can generate just enough energy in the morning and in the evening so that he or she gets their basic staples of food, water, waste removal, medication, and love. These banal activities are a strong buffer between a functioing me and doom. I’m quite serious.
I am 36 years old, going on 37.
I am single with no prospects.
I am single with no confidence to meet anyone.
I have a job and career that I cannot help but project disdain unto whenever I am asked.
I have no idea what radical path out of that mess to take.
I have finances that are fair and improving at an unaaceptabole rate.
I hate going to the gym to exercise, so I will never find out what what it might look like for a shirt to lay flat except for the hint of definiton in the pectoral area. Just talking of the average healthy guy prototype. I’d like to know what it’s like to embody that normal, unspectacular body.
I have no physical activity I enjoy that I could use for meaningful exercise.
I am too swept up in the above anxieties to focus on the everyday tasks that otheres take for granted–laundry, sorting through mail, doing dishes.
In short, I am a disaster. Most of you know this. The rest of you just haven’t read frequently enough.