I think I am a narcissist. 

Actually, I know I am a narcissist. Ask my exes. They will probably form a committee. 

But I don’t think narcissism is necessarily a bad thing. Mine, at least, is still under control. At work, I keep it in a box. I come in, do my work, listen to my soul music when the day is terrible and go home. I am not trying to make everyone else’s day about me. That’s progress. 

I am 25. Turning 26 in September. I am in my pre-prime. My prime comes later, when I check my payslip and see very many zeros. Not zeros floating around by themselves. There must be a figure in front, though. Maybe one. Maybe more. Ideally, an infinity sign. 

That is freedom to me. Being able to walk into a shop, pick something up and not look at the price tag. Or being able to come home and find my wife exhausted from a night shift and say, “Don’t cook. Get dressed. I know a place.” I want that kind of life. I don’t want to give someone’s daughter the bare minimum. 

I already have a woman, actually. I saw her at church once. There were hundreds of people, but everyone else looked grayscale. She was the only colour. My hue. I watched her for three weeks before I approached her. I was also coming out of a breakup, so apparently my brain thought this was the perfect time to start plotting again. 

I like being weird. I am confident in my weirdness. I think everyone should be. 

I studied software engineering but somehow ended up in digital marketing. I haven’t cheated on software engineering, though. It is still my baby. I still develop things. I have discovered I can do voiceovers too, which I am very good at, especially at 2 a.m. when my voice is raspy. 

I think I can do anything. 

That might sound narcissistic. 

It is. 

But I think our generation gets misunderstood. People call us entitled. I disagree. Strike out entitled. Write aggressive. 

We are hungry. 

We have seen what is possible. We want it. 

And I intend to get mine. 

Eventually, I want to be in my final form. Like Simba, when the mane comes in and he stops looking like a cub. I want the money, the house by the sea, the beautiful wife sleeping beside me, the aura. 

Yes, aura. 

You don’t announce that you have it. People just know. 

Until then, I am building. 

Smallly. 

One day, I will be one of one. 

Actually, I already am.