A Game

I keep playing this game, maybe you know of it. I sit around and watch movies, maybe good television, and I find ways of relating them to you. The romantic comedies and dramas are pretty easy. Sometimes I’ll add in a little challenge with some absurdist piece or an episode of BSG. The goal of the game, as all games need a point, is to fall in love with you. To fall in love with you and motivate myself to tell you. I’ve been playing it for a while, I’ll put the number around 2 years, and the interesting fact, as I’m sure you’re about to guess, is that I’ve never won this game. If I had, I probably wouldn’t be writing this. There must be some irony in never winning a game you invented, though I’m sure many other idiots along the way have played something similar if not exactly the same. Maybe I could start a group. A little online community where we all play a game together none of us has a chance in Hell of winning. It’ll be kind of like an AA meeting but just filled with some saps who need to get over themselves and realize that things will never get better by remaining on the couch. Sure, the pizza is good and there are some really funny threads or memes to read, but you’re basically just chewing on a twenty-five cent gumball. Of course, me putting this down in poetry makes me the biggest sap. But, then again, I suppose the group will need a president. A sappy leader. If I’m going to make myself depressed, I might as well be around enablers.  It’ll make me feel better. And then make me feel more sad when I’m alone. That could be another game. How sad can I make myself about being sad? Maybe I can turn these into board games. Make a little money on the side with my depression, especially since being a poet doesn’t really do it. I’ll just make a sad salary. The money won’t make me happy but I’ll be able to continue my Netflix subscription so I can watch more movies and television as a way of thinking of you. So. That’s a plus.