Mister Pink

I still don't know about you.

Where's the balance? Where's the edge? Where's my alpha, your omega? It's clear that we work together, it's clear we make each other better, but am I wrong for sometimes wishing that it were more me than you? For sometimes wanting you to show up a little later, if you even have to appear at all?

       I don't know, Mr. Pink.

Don't get me wrong -- I like that you're here. I like what it means. I like what it does for me, for her, for us ...but I still don't know, Mr. Pink. So much starting and stopping, so much stepping backwards. Like dancing without leading, or driving without any hands on the wheel. Maybe it's just what I need. Maybe it's doing me a lot more good than I'll ever know, but sometimes it messes with my head. Because you're always there, and it's like you're always right. No one ever tells you to wait, or stop, or slow down. You just keep going, and going, and going...

But who am I to complain anyway? I mean, look at all you do. It's not like I could do that. I wish I could, but I'm just not wired that way.

       Not like you, Mr. Pink.

Still, I know something that you don't. I know places that you've never been. I know that you need me too, don't you, Mr. Pink? No matter how you work, or what you do -- you still can't get there without me... can you? It's just not the same, is it?

We work together. We collaborate and we compromise. We perform as one.

...but I don't know, Mr. Pink.

          I still don't know about you.

[Listening to: Deftones, "Engine No. 9"]

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