Special Kind of Boring

Sometimes, I wish I could be a better person and not this half-assed excuse of light and dark.

I wonder why you’d want to be with me. I’m an emotional blackhole every month. I’m this kind of person you don’t really know until you try. I’m this brand of boring on any other day.

You know about this. Somehow, along the course of knowing, I knew you too.

Maybe.

But sometimes, I just wish I could be better; at least, for your sake if not for mine. It’s because I’m this brand of boring that I wonder what we are still doing here. I wonder why we are still here.

I wish I knew but you won’t tell me.

I can crack every kind of weirdness as long as it doesn’t involve me. I guess this just keeps me hurtling back to you. I wondered. I rambled.

I talk to myself at night.

I want them to know. I want you to know. I want to know. I want to be unsure but it can’t happen. I’m a dog in love with a cat and I don’t know what the difference is.

But I want to be better.

Lastly, I want you.

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