Alone

For the first time in my living memory. I am alone. I don't like it. I would prefer almost anything to this. Sadness and depression seem to be my only companions. They're not much fun.

Thoughts

The rain beat at the roof, while Dan played the accordion. He is an excellent accordionist, but he refuses to tell anyone he does it. Almost, like he is afraid of people knowing. I don't know him very good. Only most all my life. I was flopped on the couch, when his brother Mike walked in and yelled for him to quit making that racket.

Mike is funny. He loves being the center of attention. I think Dan likes that, too. Except, he would prefer death to being humiliated or made to feal shame. I guess that's why he doesn't want to tell anybody he plays the accordion. Afraid of ridicule, luck is that ain't my prob. Mike just wanted to talk about himself and Dan is the only person I know that would prefer to listen to someone talk about themselves than to talk about himself. Anyways Mike started talking about high school days and I slipped out.

I enjoy walking in the rain. It is nice and cool. When I was little I was afraid of thunder and lightning, now it is just awe feeling welling up from where I suppose my heart is located. About the bottom of my ribcage dead center might be my stomach? not that it matters much stomach, liver, heart, brain, where ever. Not much that it matters i guess. The gutters were full, before I got home. My heart was aching and I felt sad without any reason.

I Never Thought It Would Be So Hard

All I want to do is be me, but it is so much easier not to be me. I can pick any persona I like and slip it on. No one will recognise me in this one or that one over there. Oh! I've never been that! It is so much fun being somebody else.

I'm not even sure who I am underneath and that is scary.

Q. Why Another Blog?

Minion For Hire is the story of my life in the only way I feel comfortable discussing my life. Tongue-in-cheek humor that is very accurate without the specifics of reality. I pretend  that I am a character in a story. The escapist life I can't leave but on the blog I can re-invent it as a story others might want to live.

A. To bitch about the discomfort of being beaten into submission.  I will not leave, until staying is impossible, when I am dead.