I’m going to write a book called “High Maintenance and Socially Retarded: The Ryan Caravella Story.” It’s a good thing the internet exists otherwise I probably wouldn’t have friends. Until I write that book. Then I’d probably have a lot of friends because a lot of people would relate to it and buy it and then I’d be rich and everyone knows that people love rich* guys.

This works for me though. I spend so much time thinking that people hate me for no reason, but when I’m rich I can just get people to do that for me. Or hire an entourage so that people don’t fuck with me. Like J.K. Rowling. Only her entourage is made up of wizards so she’s arguably more badass and slightly more magical. You win this round, J.K. Rowling.

My book will totally get on Oprah too. Because it’ll be deep and Oprah just eats that shit up. It’ll totally talk about my lifelong journeys and my struggles against society and my rough upbringing. Except nothing exciting ever really happened to me so I’ll probably just lie and say I stopped a fire or something and then Oprah*** will end up suing me.

The moral of the story is, if you didn’t put out a fire, don’t fuck with Oprah. Because she knows. She’s been there.

*But not guys named Rich. Guys named Rich are usually douchebags.**

**Also guys named Richie. That just sounds hairy.

***I don’t know why Oprah would sue me. I don’t have time to think of these things, I have to write my award-winning book.

-The Gay