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Sometimes a dog is just too old to learn new tricks.

Sometimes a human is destined to repeat the same behaviors they always have in response to situations they deem unfavorable.

Sometimes compulsions are outside of a person’s control.

Sometimes they’re just compulsions.

Sometimes I feel like an animal that is being observed rather than a human that is being respected. I have talents and quirks and oddities about me that make me a novelty to others but then I seem to lose my appeal on people as time goes on.

I don’t know what prevents me from being enough for myself enough so I can be enough for others, but it is apparent I am not yet there.

How could one be when they let something so rare seemingly unfold right before their eyes. How could one be when they seemingly created the ending they avoided most? How could I be ready for another person in my life when I can’t accept they have a life?

I’m not just some trick dog to show off, but damn it all do I wish I just were a trick.

But instead the trick is on me, the joke is always on me.

Alone is how I’ll be, inside this box of quirks and me.

Always trying to prove that I’m not as bad.

As bad as I’ve been.

But bad is all.

It is.