Is This Thing On?

I took the stage at open mic on St. Patrick’s Day. I like to think “mic” on that day is pronounced like, you know, an appropriate ethnic slur, sort of.

“This is a poem I wrote especially for today. I wrote it today.”

The crowd was already deep in their cups.

“It’s called…’Jesus Wept.'”

A few laughs. One “WOO!” from the back.

Here’s what I said:

A friend told me about posting online and the things you have to do to get clicks. Everyone knows now that to get clicks and likes and such is the way to get money from posting.

Let’s say you post about narcissists. It’s not enough to post good stuff and warnings. You have to post a lot, like many times a day. People keep coming back for more.

Narcissism is a hot topic apparently. Almost everyone has been a victim. Everyone knows a narcissist. It’s more common than being right handed, and more sinister.

There are groups online and in real life for victims recovering from having been with a narcissist. It’s something some people never get over. It becomes a major focus of who they are.

This could be the great paradox of our times, because, apparently, there are more victims of narcissists than there are victims generally.

I found this out because I was thinking about forming a group of victims because I wanted a way to meet my own victim. I set up the group and everyone who joined was a victim of a narcissist.

I wish it were funnier. I wish it weren’t true. I was looking for victims of a different kind. The kind that didn’t consider themselves victims at all.

I have heard of these, the kind of people who say, Yeah, that happened to me, but I don’t consider myself a victim. I look at that as just part of my experience.

I wanted to meet someone like that, who’d been through something really bad, repeatedly, and just thought it was normal. I was thinking that person would like me more because I wasn’t like that.

Then it occurred to me unless I was willing to behave like that, maybe that person wouldn’t think our relationship was normal and it wouldn’t work out.

Then I wondered whether all my thinking about my own needs and wants when thinking about someone else meant I was a narcissist. I did seem to think a lot about myself.

I mean, like when I was thinking about what to do and what to eat for dinner, I would rarely consider others when I was alone. Maybe I needed to consider others more, even when I was alone.

Then I paused. I noticed the room had gone eerily silent. It had gone silent because everyone had left about ten sentences in. I hadn’t noticed because I was caught up in my own words, the sound of my own voice.

No one had even bothered to heckle me. Not even a “You SUCK!” before leaving.

I could hear the party going on in the main room. The spotlight was still on me but I could sense there was no one behind it. I was utterly alone. Open mic was over. I had ended it for everyone.

As I made my way home, I kept thinking what different choices I ought to make if, for some reason, at that moment, instead of being alone, I was with someone, if I suddenly had a family and kids.

What did I have to eat at home that kids might like? Did I need to stop at the store in case I got back home and I found I had kids waiting at home?

Then I woke up.