YURN2-ME NPR Radio

    I lived then, as now, in an apartment in New York City. It was a while ago, years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes. But I won't go into details. Let's just say a while ago.
   I had suffered a loss, was emotionally drained and at the same time devastated, if that is a possibility. My psychiatrist, who wears a gray suit or else a pair of gray slacks with a pullover sweater, assures me, if such is possible in that world, that one can suffer from more than one affliction at the same time. He asks me what I think. There is something about me, evidently, that draws others into my world, even though I make no attempt to enter theirs. I don't know what that quality is, as in general I couldn't care less about the problems of others. I have suffered a loss and it seems unbearable. I am reluctant to even leave my apartment.
    But I must go out from time to time, for food and other reasons. When I open my door, I stumble over the offerings that others have left in my doorway. They know I grieve and am of a sensitive nature. Because of the inexorable charm of my personality, which I must say I do not understand, others want me to know they care. I don't quite get where they're coming from as I have absolutely no interest in them, but sometimes, even in  my modest assessment of myself, I have suspected they want something from me. I in no way promote myself as a person who has anything to offer, but still, they keep pressing.
    For example, a woman who sees herself as a family friend insists on inviting me to dinner. She is older than me and not my type anyway. She smells of old, though expensive, perfume, and her hair style, though coiffed, is somewhat dated. But she persists in showering me with unwanted attention, compliments on my looks and character, which most certainly are undeserved,  until I order her to stop. Later I kick into the hallway  the food offerings she has left on my doorstep. There will be more, from others, if not her. People seem to adore me.
   I am still suffering, feeling alone and unworthy. (I am not yet aware of the breakthrough yet to come, but when and if it happens, I will reveal it in my writings, which are almost intolerably touching and unique.