I am addicted to staying in, wearing jammies, ordering tomato soup, and dancing.
This weekend, I realized that I have developed a crippling fear of the outside world. I do not like interacting with humans, and I believe the entire world is out to get me. I have a safe zone, a daily routine, and I am alright with that.
There are only a few things that make me happy. This short list includes
- checking the weather, constantly asking my phone if it is raining even when I can see the sun in the sky
- wearing jammies, comfortable PJs with elastic bands that cloak my massive weight gain
- ordering tomato soup by way of delivery
- I have developed a fear of real shoes
- Avoiding having to clean my apartment at all cost.
- dancing around to honky old songs like 'Shake, Rattle and Roll.'
I have lost all contact with any one real in my life. My family, my friends, my significant other. Instead, I live alone on a steady diet of tomato soup. I have developed a Vitamin D deficiency because I am always indoors, afraid of potential rainfall.
The only friend I have is a computer phone. She talks to me and answers my questions about the scary world outside. She makes me laugh. She comforts me when I am scared. She has all the answers, and only cares about servicing me. I like her sense of humor. Every day feels like I am on a date with my robot phone, and I have nothing to worry about. The only moment that gives me anxiety is the thought of having to make my own tomato soup, having to open up a can by myself and potentially cutting a major artery with the electric can opener.
I can't take the risk of making my own tomato soup. I could burn my precious hands on the stove, or even spill scalding hot soup all over my skin and my favorite pair of jammies. The outside world sees me as a loafing disgrace, but this is my way of life. I have filed a disability claim with the government, and will soon be adequately supported by Obama care. I am confident that I will be able to order tomato soup every day.
Maybe I'm doing alright in this private paradise of mine. I have everything I need, with occasional interactions with the tomato soup delivery boy. One of the delivery boys is such a regular that he knows to leave the soup on the door mat. He knocks twice, and I slide a $10 bill under the door. I am afraid of rain getting in the house and ruining the floors. I honestly believe that I am the Wicked Witch of the West, and water will melt me. I avoid taking showers, and instead disinfect my entire body with rubbing alcohol.
My apartment is a mess, with piles of soup cartons. The smell of rotting, crusted tomato soup is taking over, but I am afraid to clean my apartment. It feels like those cartons are a part of me, and throwing them out would be like self-harming. At times, I am aware of the dark spiral that my life has become, but then I find comfort in my phone robot's voice. I don't feel alone. Comfortable in my jammy jam jammies, tummie filled with tomato soup... I can clean up this mess another day.
Tonight, we're dancing.