I wake up each up each morning reaching for someone who isn't there.
I twist my finger where a ring had never been.
I look at seemingly happily married couples on the street, and on TV and I feel angry, jealous.
I think about the names of the children I do not have.
I spoon with my body length pillow, sadly too short to represent any woman I'd be with.
I sometimes cry for no reason.
I can't watch the movie Children of a Lesser God anymore without wasting an entire pack of tissues.
I go to sleep every night, saying the name of a woman I've never met, who probably doesn't exist.
A different name every night.
"I love you Rita."
"I love you Stephanie."
"I love you Meredith."
"I love you Penny."
I dream about a wedding day that never happened, an anniversary that hasn't come.
I kiss the part of my body pillow closest to my head and I say "I love you."
I am so lonely, in this house with 4 other people, a dog, and more than 20 cats.
Every woman I've ever loved has hurt me badly.
But I still go to bed every night, spooning that pillow, kissing it good night, telling it that I love her, and that I always will.
It's what keeps me going.
This is the life of a young man who grew up too quickly.
A man who wants to succeed where his parents who loathe each other failed.
I am afraid to let the truth about myself be known to my family out of fear of ridicule.
As far as they are concerned, I am a eunuch.
Only those I've met on-line know the real me.
And even then, there are things I won't tell even those I trust most.
This is Brian D Webber of Denver, Colorado's life, day in, day out.
At least I have the internet.
Without it, I'd have no friends.
No life.
No purpose.
When asked why I haven't committed suicide, the only reason I can think of is, too stubborn.
Too paranoid.
Killing myself would only let my enemies win, and letting them win is a fate worse then death.
Perhaps with the love of a beautiful intelligent funny women, I could rise above them.
No longer be down on their level.
Out of the emotional gutter.
But until then, I'm simply alone.
Except for my body pillow.
I am still a virgin.
But not by choice.
Out of spite.
To spite my sex crazed porn addicted father.
Is it wrong to tell a 12 year old that all he needs is a good blow job?
I say yes.
Maybe it's this dysfunction, this fear of becoming my father that has kept me alone.
Except for my body pillow.
I have fallen in love many times, but have successfully fallen out only once.
My greatest fear is that all at once all of the women I've loved will come back at the same time, all wanting me to forgive them and be with them.
But the dream has a happy ending.
My head explodes, making the point moot.
Removing my need to choose.
I yearn to hold my body pillow now.
I'm 19 years old now.
I've felt this way since I was 15.
Maybe earlier.
Most of my early life is a blur.
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