Games and Fun

Life is all just fun and games,
for what else holds such meaning as competition.
It’s meant to bring joy, by myself or with others.
This fun is in my blood and the games are present,
through my every action they appear.
I was raised surrounded by them,
and I choose to raise others up to the same effect.

Life is all just shits and giggles,
the way we share thoughts withholding thought.
“Good one, but listen to MY story”
and the hours seem to wind away like a toy.
Talking is hard, so we brainstorm comedy instead.
(We being myself of course.)
I struggle to maintain basic communication skills.

Life is all just survival of the fittest.
Those who are weak get much less than the spotlight,
more like a light spot at the dinner table.
Silence is weakness, but so is caring.
Why do we care about those who don’t care about us?
Why should I care about your life when you don’t care about mine?
The world should just be a nicer place,
so we don’t have to worry about each other.
That way, it makes our compassion more meaningful,
when the demand is high but supply is low.
That would make me feel more important I hope.

Life is all just about me.
Not in like a narcissistic way or anything,
I’m not even the main character.
I just can’t seem to find a place for too long,
and what kind of protagonist has no feelings.
Not quite like a robot either, at least those can compute,
I could always memorize the digits of pi.
Yet I tend to find myself happy to be alive,
because where else can I possibly type out what’s on my mind.
I am from a dynasty of introverted extroverts.