Am I a Real Person?
DO I even exist?
Lately people have been uncertain if I am a person.
It all started last Tuesday when my friend wanted me to review her podcast on iTunes. To her shock and horror, I informed her that I did not, in fact, have iTunes.
That was the beginning.
Apparently, all real people ( excluding grandmas and babies) have iTunes. The fact that I don’t started the original suspicion that maybe I’m not a real person. Theories started to fly: I am a figment of my own imagination. I’m one of the Lizard-people, using a human-looking body to push forward my own evil agenda. I am a scoop of ice cream in a cone where time is suspended and I am slowly melting away.
I started to get scared. Very scared. Perhaps I’m not real. And if I realize that I’m unreal, I’m worried that I‘ll disappear into a vapor of nothingness. Poof. That’s it. I’m done. No more me.
Let’s review the facts:
1. I don’t own iTunes. I never had iTunes
2. I call Snapchat “THE SNAPS” - Real people don’t do that.
3. I have never cooked chicken. I am 30 years old and I’ve never cooked chicken. It’s beyond pathetic. Real people know how to cook chicken. They just do.
4. I live in NYC and I didn’t have sex for 5 years. How does that even happen? I’m not a nun. I don’t have a body odor problem. My body isn’t made out of post-it notes. Real people have sex. It’s easy. They walk in a bar and then they walk out with a penis in their vagina... or whatever strikes their fancy. A lot of things strike my fancy but I walk out of the bar alone. The only explanation is that no one can see me because I don’t really exist.
5. My middle name is spelled wrong on my driver’s license. How could the government let an error like that happen for a real person? Unless the government isn’t real too.
6. I think Nickleback isn’t as bad as everyone says. They had a few good songs…. Like “Far Away.” and “How you remind me”. Real people can’t name Nickleback songs and won’t post them in a public forum.
Guys, I am really starting to get nervous here. All signs point to the fact that I don’t exist.. What do I do?