Hi. My name is Borin Man’chr Achter. I’m 31, I’m a registered home inspector for haunted dollhouses. I live, sadly, alone.
I have a problem, but the thing is, it’s an odd problem. I’m worried that people will judge me or think I’m weird. Honestly, you might think I’m weird too. What am I doing…
The best way I can put it is this. I’m always the second choice. Or maybe even the last resort. Never the first pick, always the, “Well, I guess you’ll work.”
Like in school, for example, I was never (and I’m sorry you have to bear witness to my shame) picked to be line leader. At home, it was always my siblings who were picked to do chores instead of me. And just three weeks ago, I was passed up for a promotion yet again.
They promoted Harold. He’s not even good at his job. What’s he going to do when he comes across a fire hazard? He’s a wooden doll!
But anyway, I digress. Hopefully you understand the severity of my issue. It’s been a hard life, but I deal. That was, I guess, until they came into my life. Someone who made me determined not to be a second choice.
They were perfect. I met them at 5 o’clock. They were sitting at a bar. Okay, maybe I didn’t meet them per se, but I saw them. Okay, maybe I didn’t see them, but I saw a picture of them. They were perfect, beautiful, everything that was right with the world. I fell in love.
I had to meet them. I had to. I just had to. No more being overlooked, I told myself. This was finally the one. I had to be good enough for them.
I bought self-help books. I started working out. I went all out, trying to be the best version of myself that I could. A version they would want. I went back there every day to see if they were there again. Nothing for a few days, a week, and then, it happened.
“Breaking 5 O’Clock News: Body, Second Victim in Suspected Serial Killer Case, Found Under Overpass Outside Abandoned Local Toy Store”
I was heartbroken. Another one. The second victim. That was just outside where I worked! I was right there! Just like that, I was back to square one. Second choice for murder. I wasn’t good enough for them.
The only person I’d ever truly wanted to impress and here I was, falling short yet again. I did everything I possibly could to be their type. I dyed my hair blonde, started walking home alone at night and through every dark alleyway I could find. I even left my doors unlocked! What gives?
But then a week later I saw it again, “Fourth Body Discovered.” And so it went, week after week. We’re up to 69 now, forget being the second choice. I’ve never felt like more of a failure.
Am I hopeless? Is it the murder victim #70 shirt I wear? I keep it updated every week, to make sure I’m on top of everything. Besides, they leave the torso intact so it would make everything so much easier.
I swear I’m trying. Please, please, please, I’m begging for help. I’m sick of never being picked. For 31 years I’ve been waiting to be discovered. So please, give me something. A tip. A trick. A phone number.
Well, that’s my issue. How do I get picked (off)?
Murder Victim #70 (hopefully, fingers crossed!)