I read and watch and absorb from my quiet corner. I don’t talk much, but I listen with a content curiosity. I watch the world as if it’s a painting. It never seems to dry.
My nature is simple. I am easily pleased.
Until I was told I was boring, I didn’t realize I was boring. I thought I had explored and experienced this vibrant, mountainous adventure. I felt neon, and everyone saw me as beige.
It seems a subjective statement. Regardless, I am offended. To be called boring is an insult I never wanted.