I thought writing this blog would help me open up and maybe fix some things that were wrong with me. But I’m still the same person inside, only now it feels like a bunch of people are staring at me while I’m inside a glass cage wearing nothing but underwear. Usually a particular mood prompts me to write something, and it feels right, and then when I go back to read it a few hours later I get sick to my stomach. What was I thinking! That happens more often than not, and the weird thing is that I know it’s going to happen with this post. At least I know I have the option of deleting the whole blog and making it all go away.

And then there are the people who leave comments. A lot of you are nice, but Lyle Lanley, if that’s your real name, what’s your problem? You’re a butthole. Only butthole may not be the right word because it doesn’t capture your sense of superiority, so I guess I could call you buttholier-than-thou. That’s my new name for you, Lyle Lanley!

And Eufemiano Fuentes, maybe it’s not such a good idea to accuse total strangers of being Jame Gumb. I have a feeling that Eufemiano Fuentes really is its name, and if it keeps it up, maybe some nut out there is going to make it put the lotion in the basket.

And Leland, maybe you’re the super freak. Did you stop to think about that? Why don’t you try saying something nice for a change?

And then there are all the people who think I’m not real. How do you think that makes me feel? I’ll tell you. It makes me feel like a cipher in the snow.

Isolation Score: 8