What's it like to be me? It's like a carnival only with more cheese. Who really knows me? Chances are, not you. I don't know too many people and sometimes that's the way I like it. I'm just living my life trying to do what's right...maybe that's why they don't like me. I don't care...not really. It's nice to be alone. Sometimes you just have to get away or you'll go insane and start putting chocolate sauce on your meatloaf. I'm like a nice big steak; good at the time, but fattening later. I ain't saying I'm a bad fellow. Heavens no. I'm just shy. This may make no sense, but what does, if anything, these days? You just have to sit back and let Mother Nature do her thing. I don't really know exactly what I'm trying to say here, but it doesn't really matter. I ain't writing this for anyone who reads it. Just for me. Have you ever ridden a giraffe several miles only to notice that you left your buffalo wings back at the motel? So you think about turning around and going back, but what's the use? They'll just be cold and therefore untasty. Sure, you could reheat them, but that would just make them soggy. Plus, you'd have to travel for miles to find a microwave or an oven, but by that time, they'd be rancid and unedible. I'm like an island to most people, unreachable by plane or boat. Anyhoo, sometimes that's good. Who knows? Maybe someday I'll wake up from this exast...ecksast...existintial...this here quandary. But I've let the cat out of the bag and now it's time to pay the piper. Don't mourn for me, though. I'm already dead.