Confession Of A Narcissist

I get a call from a stranger every day.

Every evening, around 7 O'clock!

A heavy, wheezy, monotonous voice

Ramble a series of tedious events

On the other side of my phone.

Every day, every week, every month

I hear what I heard on every other day.

A casual workspace joke, a customary political opinion,

A non- conformist assertion, a mainstream admiration,

complaints of a persisting headache, pangs of an unrequited love,

Anticipations, resentments, fantasies...

I wonder how can someone fit into such a small universe

How to live such an insignificant life

How to endure such everydayness

Often, I wish I have never picked that first ring.

Never laughed at those lame jokes.

I wish I could have disagreed a bit more and

Say yes to some of those disagreements.

I wish everything could be as it used to be.

And yet, every evening, I expect for a call,

Await for a lifeless voice,

Long for those moments of boredom.

Merely for being sure that somewhere out there

A soul, just like me, has survived another dreadful day.