Nothing much

I’ll never be much of anything,
I’m afraid, because the only thing
I’ve ever been good at was hiding
in books and papers, reading and writing.

For some years now I have been living
day to day without a life’s meaning,
and so it’s time that I stopped dreaming
of my “nothing much” fate ever changing.

I should acquiesce what I’m being
given without ungrateful whining,
disappointment or even crying,
and definitely without desiring

to experience any such thing
I’m not destined to, like becoming
some-special-body’s beloved darling.
Clearly, I’m not made for such a living.