So I am reading “Samson and the Pirate Monks”, by Nate Larkin, and if you are I dude I really rcommend that you do too. You can get it here. Anyhoo, here is a post inspired while reading that book.
Allow me to let you in on a little secret about yours truly: I am madly and hopelessly in love with me. It is not some weird fascination that you would see in a freaky movie with a creepy sound track and me writing valentines to myself. Nor does it manifest itself in softly whispered affirmations of my own greatness as I gaze into the mirror; (I actually do not have a very good relationship with the mirror). But none the less, underneath a thin veneer lay a love for myself that is deeper and more powerful than my love for anything else, and indeed it is most likely the motivating factor in just about everything I do. Strangely enough I somehow manage to mix this amazing amount of self-concern with a considerable amount of self-loathing (see my relationship with the mirror). It’s not just that I hate how I look, or sound or just about everything I do, it’s that I live just about everyday trying to fulfill the needs of the always eating, always famished never fulfilled monster that is me. I think I am a co-dependent with myself, I can’t live without me, unfortunately I am also killing me. I was reading the other day how National Basketball Association super star Jason Kidd is divorcing his wife because she abused him. I would have to add that I find this strange, this super athlete who is being beat up by his little ole’ wife. And yet it seems a lot less strange than my relationship with me. I am the abuser I can not escape, I am a real life emotional version of the children’s game where you take another persons hand and slap their face with it and tease “stop hitting yourself.”
Under normal circumstances one might be ashamed to tell you all of that, but I am not, and the simple reason why is this: It is easier to talk to people with the same issues as you. This is why Alcoholic’s Anonymous works: people with drinking problems are less ashamed to tell them to other people with drinking problems. Who would there be to judge? They all have the same issue. So I tell you honestly about my self-obsession because I know that you my friends are just as self obsessed as I am. It’s ok you can admit it. Perhaps you can find someone else and introduce yourself: “Hi, I am Dave and I am a me-o-holic.” It will be the first step to your recovery.