My Ego

As I slung my sack over my shoulder and stood by the receptionist's desk I proclaimed, "I'm off to make sure all is right with the world."

This meant heading to my apartment to feed Skeeter his daily snack, grab my laptop to send off a daily song to my friend in Guyana, and to belt out this proclamation.

My ego is delusional, but without these acts, something would seem wrong with my world. To face a daily existence of these lunchtime rituals as routine without grandiose intention would mean a thankless and terribly boring existence. I find my delusion to be fulfilling and my accomplishments are my own. Ah, and to leave the office folk perplexed is vastly satisfying, but to be weird is my noble endeavour.

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