The Fear

I know that I'm weird.
I talk to myself and I twirl.
But I grew up telling myself every birthday that this year there'd be a boy

or next year

or the year after that.

But now I'm beginning to wonder, what happens if I run out of years?
Talking to myself will stop being cute someday soon;
And eventually, my knees will give out so that I can twirl no more.
What if someday it's just me and my cats?

I don't even like cats.