We all get tired of talking to each other.

My friends have stopped phoning. There for a while I went through a depressive fit. I usually self-sooth with exercise, movies, golf, or 18th century classics, but this time, I decided to call my friends every day for a week and have the same stupid conversation with them. 

If you cease to be entertaining and you complain about it, the gods will reward you with solitude. 

Now, I am completely alone. My friends have been few and far between, which puts me in an inconvenient situation. If I call them too much, they will stop picking up. 

Right before the phone went dead, my best friend had three conversations going at once. “Hey man, can you hold on a second?” and then I’d be waiting while he talked to a cute girl in the gym or networked with a guy from Amazon.

I know what you’re thinking… Why put up with that? Well, I was desperate to talk to somebody, but nobody wanted to talk to me, apparently.

I wish I didn’t need other people—the way other people don’t need me.

I’ve noticed that my attitude is a lot like my co-workers. They all believe they are very interesting.

One of them told me he had owned his own small business for 30 years until he died twice on the operating table. 

The second time he went into a comma, he realized he wanted to help kids.

Knowing this, 

I can’t go on a date and tell a girl what I do for a living. I have to make something up.

“What do you do?” She asked me. “Wait a second, let me guess, you’re a teacher.”

“No, that’s incorrect,” I told her. “I’m a poet.”

“’No, that’s incorrect?’ You definitely are a teacher. You talk like one,” she said.