I'm Boring. There I've said it, I'm sorry I've mislead you for so long. Smiling and nodding at all the interesting and worthwhile things you say,
pretending I know what you’re talking about. I’ve been mentally organizing my
documents during this whole conversation just to cope with the overwhelming
realization that when you stop talking I will literally have no response to
anything you just said other than polite laughter.
And look its okay if you think I'm boring, you can stop feeling guilty now
I understand. I know that my opinion isn’t very interesting to you and you’ve probably
been debating whether I’m an intellectual or just dull. Due to the gradual glazing
over of your eyes I suspect the latter. All of this I don’t mind I’ve accepted
my blandness, but the thing that bothers me is this; why did you think I was
interesting in the first place?
Perhaps you met me when I was drunk? That's the most likely reason, allow me to explain. When I drink alcohol a strange chemical reaction begins, my whole body
caves in on itself and reproduces an exact replica of me. An exact replica of
me who likes to go around mooning passer-bys, reveal horrifyingly personal
details about herself and generally act like an idiot.
This replica has an intolerance yet unquestionable love for booze. She also
finds it quite difficult to focus her gaze or use her inside voice. My replica
once ate a whole packet of ham for no reason at all. But despite all of this she can be a heck of a lot of fun. Sadly she is just a mere apparition, a fleeting ghost which tricks you into thinking that you may have found an exciting new friend. Once back at home and into bed she'll wake up in
the morning back inside my stomach and I'd have returned, dull and
uninteresting as ever although perhaps slightly more nauseous.
That’s about as good as our friendship is going to get and believe me I'm not much of a drinker. Please don't start pitying me by this point, I'm happy, I have friends, they're just as dull as I am. We have
parties where we all gather around mugs of green tea and discuss world events, its
wild. So yes feel free to make your excuses and leave this excruciatingly
awkward conversation.
And well, if I’m going to be totally honest I would really much prefer you
did. It’s not that I don’t think you’re a wonderful person it’s just I’d rather
not be talking about the last time you had sexual intercourse and all the different
aromas that followed suit, it’s highly inappropriate. And look let’s face it
you’ve spent this whole time on your phone anyway which, by the way, is
incredibly bad mannered of you.
I mean how often do you really need to text someone? It’s absurd! What
could you possibly be talking about?! Probably about how awful your new hair
cut is, there I said it. What the bloody hell is an undercut anyway it’s ridiculous;
as soon as a large gush of wind comes along everyone will know that half of
your head is bald. And my lord how much make up do you wear to match it, do you
pile it on with a trowel or something?!
I’m sorry I’m sorry, I’m being rude and highly personal, your horrendous
choices in how you present yourself shouldn't affect my opinion on your personality.
Let’s go our separate ways so as to not leave this fleeting, brief and badly
chosen acquaintance-ship on bitter terms. Perhaps one day we shall bump into
each other, exchange smiles and reminisce of the times where we would both sit
together in silence sweating over what to say to each other. So au
revior! Adieu, ciao and auf wiedersehen, let’s just go back to our separate
lives and leave it at that.
You uncultured pig.
