I Might Be A Selfish Asshole

I finally understand why the recent death of my closest friend has hit me so hard. She left me without an insurance policy, nakedly exposed to whatever horrors that may come my way, with nowhere to turn for solace and comfort. 

I have come to see this over the past month when something of import has happened, be it good or bad, and my first thought has been to call Debra. But I can't! She no longer exists! She disappeared -- just like that! -- obliterated by a magical 18-wheeler on a lonely road in the middle of Wyoming, just a little past noon. Now I'm stuck here and have to deal with whatever it is all by myself. 

So in the end, is my grief all about me? Could my friend Jim be right? A few months ago he noisily, and I thought obnoxiously, asserted during dinner at a lovely restaurant in Quebec City, that "Everyone is a selfish asshole" -- and I'm quoting him directly. At the time I vehemently disagreed, thinking to myself, "Well you sure are." Now it turns out he's right. 

I guess I owe Jim an apology.