Who is _______?

"Who's is _______?"

A seemingly simple question.
However, anything but a simple answer.
But we'll come back to this.

A seemingly simple afternoon.
Sun high and bright. Diner packed to the brim.
A corner both, perfect for the two of us.

Not a stranger, in the sense that I know her face.
Know her name, know she's good humored, and mostly sane.
Know, no more then whats been stated before.

"Who is _______?"

I could respond with accomplishments.
Thoughts of grandeur to quickly impress this chick.
Yeah, I handle my shit. and more shit on top of shit.
How I look at the world and see all this shit.
How I plan to fix this mischief I don't get.
I could tell her my hopes, my dreams, my thoughts, my worries.
I could tell her so many things,
that make things seem, less worse, then what they are.

The blatant truth is, I'm just depressed.
I just don't care.
Nothing is important to me.
I wanna care.
I wanna hold some thing of some value to me.
I hold no such item, no such thought.
No such, such and such.

This is a little bit of an exaggeration.
Honestly, I'm just average.
Not super intelligent, hard working, or dedicated.
Just a simple man, with simple plans.
Simple hopes of a quiet family.
A simple career, in a simple town.
Not a perfect house, but still a home.
Never thrilled, but still content.

"Who is _______?"

I'm probably more than I'm willing to show you.