I’ll be it. I’ll try.
What is it? I’d like to know.
What are you looking for? Do you want a companion? What do I need to have?
Do I have any life in my eyes for you? Are you watching closely? Do I have a quick wit, a answer to your question? What the fuck are you asking?
You’re really screwing with my self-worth. It shouldn’t be allowed, but for some reason, you’re affecting me. I let you in without you knowing and I don’t know how to get you out. I don’t really want to, to be honest. I just want things to be different.
I want you to want me. And if you don’t, SADNESS. But then, I want to change to be what you want. Which is probably wrong, but whatever.
Do you want fun? I can be fun. I can ruin my lungs and my liver, or ignore my conscience, completely disregard my sense of propriety.
Do you want smart? I AM smart. I can study more things. I can make my brain think of things you think are interesting. I do it already. I know all his jokes.
Do you want adventure? ME TOO. I am less than financially able at the moment, but eventually I want to turn left all over the world. I’m doing it with or without you, but oh, with you. It would be… it would be better.
Do you want smooth skin and a tiny waist, thighs that don’t jiggle and that spread more easily? I’ll work on it. I really will. I’ll do that thing everyone here calls a hike when I just think it’s a walk and therefore pointless. But I’ll do it.
All of these things, I’d do them for you. I will conform to your idea of perfection. I will make the necessary changes.
JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT.
But my fear, the very worst thing you could say, is that what you want is precisely not me.
Which is why I won’t ask you.