They say you’re really not somebody until somebody else loves you.  Well, I say you’re really not somebody until you love yourself.  I’ve been loved by plenty of others, until when on that one fateful day (night, really) when there was nobody else around to love me, I took matters into my own hands.
 Never in my life had I felt like more of a somebody than in the precious waning moments of ecstasy I had brought upon myself.  Turns out, none of the others who had previously loved me were able to make me feel as loved as I had just made myself feel on my very first try.  I began to feel bad for them (not all of them, for the record), and for myself; I had no idea I could create my own happy ending, that I didn’t have to think, “Well, maybe next time!” roll over, and go to sleep.  
I’d heard about it in the movies and on T.V…well, actually not really…but I’d heard about it somewhere, this self-serving love that comes so easily to some, but for some reason is more of a challenge, an embarrassment, a faux pas for others.  But why is something that feels so good not openly discussed more often?  I have never heard any of my friends mention it.  Is it because they don’t practice this sacred ritual, or because they are too ashamed to tell anyone?  
Either way, it is misfortunate.  I could have been so much happier, so less stressed, felt so much more powerful for a lot longer had I discovered this earlier in life.  I feel like I could rule the world with these two hands.  Maybe I can’t make my car payment this month.  Maybe I have to go to the grocery store instead of eat out so often.  Maybe I’ll have to wait to rent that movie on DVD instead of seeing it in theatres.  But there’s one thing I can do that will always be free.  And that makes me a Somebody.