I am someone's dream husband. I like to fail just to have something to look forward to, which is success. my favorite relationships are ambiguous, unreciprocated or entirely fictional. I love being retweeted by a stranger more than I love myself. the trajectory of my life is a pendulum getting entangled in itself. I regret every part of my body that's external. my hobbies include dying alone. I believe that if there is no hope then there is no disappointment. I am immune to cereal. I like to delay gratification until gratification is no longer possible. my penis has unrealistic, utopian views of other people. I seriously need someone to explain my hair to me. I am a catalog of anxiety issues. I experience anxiety in non-anxiety situations. I read in a book that anxiety is the median between desire and jouissance. I will tell you what I did with that knowledge. I revisited the memory of my mom lying to me when I was eight. she said, ‘we can't have fondue like other families, because I am allergic to fire.' she had anxiety issues and was afraid the flames would k** everyone. I ate cereal and didn't call her on her bullsh**. when years later we finally had fondue it was jouissance. sometimes I sleep with the light on.