I love ideas. I am an idea person. I want to give you my ideas. Give. Not loan. Not borrow to you. You don’t need to return them with interest. But I would love you to be interested in my ideas. Me, I am a good idea. In practice? Not so much maybe. I am an acquired taste. But I have acquired taste, so I like myself. As a whole, as me. Not the idea of me, which is incredible.
Ideas, though. I have so many. Ask me anything and I will answer. If I don’t know, I can surmise, I know stuff. A know-it-most, if you will. But I will answer and engage and help. It’s my favorite. More than smiling.
I want to be a muse. Like, when I grow up. I’m old enough to be grown, but not quite there. But that’s what I want to be.
It’s childish, I think. And I know stuff. To think that my ideas are the thing. Everyone has ideas. I am like everyone. I am no different. I am the same and that’s boring. I want to be interesting. So I learn more than everyone. More stuff. Make myself needed. Which feels a lot like wanted. Which is what this is all about. To be seen. To feel wanted. To be more than an idea.