A Segment of a Satire on Myself

... I have self esteem issues, which is perfect for me because I love to cry myself to sleep at night, next to eating oatmeal, and reading Robert Frost’s poetry, it’s one of my favorite pastimes. Honestly, I wouldn’t say I’m sensitive, just more emotionally activated than the rest of the cold hearted, passionless, robots I am forced to associate myself with. I would say I’m better than my peers: I’m smarter, more attractive, and obviously more respectable, but that’s a little self absorbed. Every time I see a mirror, be it a reflection in my imported sparkling water, or a simple glimmer off the glasses of someone trying to speak to me, I make sure to admire my own reflection. I’m always surprised, in constant awe of my perfect hair, beautiful brown eyes, or any of my beautiful, flawless features. However, sometimes I find positioned upon my face a disfiguring blemish, I believe it’s referred as a ‘zit’ by the middleclass peasants I’m constantly looking down on. This ‘zit’ stares at my with its one, white eye, waiting until it gains the courage to sputter out the words, “Does my presence upset you, Master?” I can only gaze at the oozing volcano of pus on my face, responding with, “Your presence would upset, but I can’t be upset about anything when I’m staring at myself."

Some would call my self-centered, narcissistic lifestyle a problem; those people should be hauled out to face the firing squadron, and then filled with bullet holes, or ‘taken care of’ as I like to call it. It’s just that I’m constantly striving for the best for myself; I don’t think that’s a problem. What is a problem is when I don’t get what I want; that’s where the troubles begin. When I ask for my thousand dollar face cleanser, and receive an off-brand, eight hundred dollar face moisturizer (imported directly from France), that’s when I get a little upset. But that only happened once, and when one of the hired servants ended up going missing. The cops showed up, but they took one look at my face, and handful of Benjamin Franklins, and they stopped asking so many questions and called off the search for the body. Good help is so hard to find these days.

I also love to worry. My inability to shut off my internal dialogue and stress talk is quite frankly the greatest thing in my life. Am I too fat? Do they hate me? Whatever. I absolutely love to worry; I love to be audible with my worries and concerns too! It helps more people pay attention to me, which is one of my favorite things in this entire world is when people pay attention to me. I’ve been told by many that my anxiety is also a problem: my mother, my doctor, and even myself. Not even the help of the most advanced anti-depressants can slow my anxiety. The doctor had me on an eighty milligram capsule of Zoloft every couple hours, but that didn’t work out. Now he has me on tranquilizers designed for rampaging elephants and Tom Cruise, but that’s not even enough sometimes.

After a long day of parading around the social palace I call my life, I retire to my mansion, where I can finally wind down. In my sanctuary I sit atop my gold, jewel-encrusted throne. I call for my personal servant to retrieve my special goblet of imported sparkling water and my dinner, which is always a steaming hot bowl of oatmeal, along with one of my many Robert Frost poetry compilations (I love to read while I eat my oatmeal). Following dinner, I look in the mirror for a couple of hours. After this I begin to worry, and the climax of my anxiety, when I screaming and yelling, one of the servant boys shoots me with a tranquilizer dart. As I stumble to my elegant four-poster bed I think of how wonderful my life is. Finally, I pass out. Dreams of me begin to fill my head as I begin to slumber. Slowly a single tear trickles out of my eye, for I am truly happy.

Let’s be serious, when the age of time travel arrives, we’ll all get to stop worrying about our problems. Let’s face it, we’d all like to go back into our past and tell someone you loved them before they died, to not like disco music, or even to tell John F. Kennedy to duck; no matter what it is we’d like to change something in the past, there’s no doubt about that. No one can live the perfect life; not one of you can say to yourselves that you wouldn’t change one thing about your life. Let’s stop lying to ourselves, let us face the mistakes of the past and look forward into the unknown, our future.

I believe in the future tense. I think everything in your life awaits you there. You can’t escape the things in front of you because, no matter how you cut it, the future will come. The future will arrive with luggage in both hands, with enough clothes in its suitcase to stay forever. Embrace your new friend, the future, with open arms; don’t let it stay out in the rain.Every mistake you’ve made, it’s in the past. If you’re aware of the blunders you’ve made in the past, fix them in the future! That’s a perfect deal right there. You won't even find that good of a deal on a late night T.V. infomercial.

Don’t look at me like I’m the Grand Marshall Guru of The Future, because I’m not. This is a scheme I’ve just started to follow. So, let’s follow each other into the great unknowns of the future tense! Let’s show ourselves that we deserve the corrections, the fixed mistakes, the glories of our lives, in the future!Oh, I know what some of you are saying, I can hear the murmurs among you… I understand that there are negative aspects of the future. Trust me, I understand. Global Warming, if you believe in that sort of stuff. The Apocalypse, if you believe in that sort of stuff. Alien attacks from space, if you believe in that sort of stuff. Death, destruction, doom! Sure all that stuff lies in our future, but let’s tackle all those obstacles with the force of confidence! Oh, and robots, robots taking over the world and enslaving the entire human race. That will happen, but let’s be serious, no one can stop that! I believe in the future tense, not the past tense. If we all get caught up in the mistakes of the past tense, we’d never get anything done, constantly caught in the past like the web of a space spider. Let’s face it; let’s show the future that we mean business! Let’s correct the errors, spills, accidents, all that stuff. Let go of the past, and jump right into the vast mysteries of the future tense!

Just putting that out there.

I become nervous about things that shouldn't even be scary, and when panicked my brain turns into pink raspberry Jell-O.

The letter E is a raging narcissist, always tagging along even when he is clearly unnecessary.

My right foot wiggles when I'm tense or excited. Occasionally I reach a high enough velocity for my body to vibrate.

I was suspended for 2 days in the 5th grade due to extraordinarily offensive comics I had drawn regarding my teacher's questionable gender and poor dental hygiene.

I've always wanted a pet Rapidash. It's so much better than a regular horse

I vow that I will work as hard as possible to become a famous political pundit so that I can one day appear on the "No Spin Zone" with Bill O'Reilly and forcefully kick him in his evil, jiggly, blatantly partisan, neoconservative jowls.

I have a ton of freckles. A few in strange places.

When I was in the 2nd grade I wrote a paper for Show-and-Tell about Bill Clinton.

Leave, and you’ll evoke relief for your leaves that fall even while evening re-leafs Fall with leaves.

Shelby Denhof is selling her soul for stories and scrolls.

I am perpetuating a scandal. Fools and their folly cry currents we all see.

Shelby vs. God in chess and war; the Devil keeps a slanted score.
(1 2 x 3 less 4 leaves 2 in need, but 1 tri-plored)