You noticed him, you saw his shape from across the street, you take it in but try not to stare. You like him, he’s good. But not good as in okay or good as in ‘yeah, the boy’s alright’ but GOOD, really fucking good.

You think maybe if you were with him, just out together for drink maybe or had to a chat to him as he walked to work, not like together as in be my one and only bullshit, but just together… you think somehow the goodness would rub off and you could feel it on you, going into you and just for a day or fuck it, for a moment, maybe you could be good, think good thoughts, feel good inside, say good things, be treated with the goodness that you would project outwards. Yeah, you’d like to be good. And you try; you know that, you really fucking do… but it ain’t come together for you like that, has it? This goodness ain’t washed over you like you thought it would, you’re not going to wake up tomorrow with a head full of good thoughts and act in a way which will make you smile to yourself and feel some kind of inner, what? Calm? No, deep down, proper deep down you know it ain’t like that.

It ain’t going to take that stranger walking down the street to see you and want to meet you and be good to you and for you to eat that shit up and absorb it and for it to become part of you… no, that’s not how it works and you fucking know it.