A Conversation With My Best Friend

I have to get you out of my system.

What’s going to be left?

Something... Anything... Anything is better than this. You ruin every single good thing I build.

Do I, or do we just build them so we can destroy them together? What makes you feel like you even built anything?

I’ve built. I’ve built things. Undeniable fucking things that you’ll never take away from me.

Go ahead, name a few.

I’m a good friend.

Yeah, and where are they all now?

I’m a good son.

Don’t kid yourself.

I’m trying.

That’s all it took? Your undeniable fucking things are ‘trying’? You’re a fucking joke.

I’m a good partner.

You lie, you cheat, you abusive little fucker. Trust me, that’s not even me. Every bit of that is you.

I’m progressing.

You’re regressing.

Fuck I hate you.

You hate yourself. Don’t try to blame it on me. Go ahead, kid, name something. Something you’ve actually achieved.

I’ve won a couple of writing competitions.

You didn’t even try.

I didn’t have to?

That’s because you compete with the bottom of the barrel. Aren’t you a little tired of trying when all you try to do is be the best piece of shit around?

Why don’t you just get out of my way and let me try to be a human being?

Now you’re asking the right questions, but are you sure you’re ready for the answers?

You’ll just lie to me. Like you always do.

I’m not the liar here, kid. You are. I don’t act like I’m not out to destroy you.

So then why do you give me these brief moments of relief? These brief moments where I can feel like I’m actually doing something, being something worthwhile.

No point in having someone jump off a balcony when you can have them jump off a fucking bridge.

You take and take and take.

You give and give and give.

I don’t.

Look who’s turning out to be the liar.

Go ahead, I’m here. I’m listening. What are you without me? What are you if you aren’t just a bad person who tries to be good?

A good person.

You think that’s your default? You think if I just decide to fuck right off, right this very moment. You’d be a good person.

Kid, you’d be an empty husk of all your fuck ups.

At least I wouldn’t be a bad person.

You’d just be someone who was a fuck up – guess what, kid, you’ll need to actually fight me if you’re trying. Don't just tell me to fuck off.

I don’t know how to fight you.

Let me ask you a question. You think I’m interested in building you up into the most altruistic, kindest, most fucking fantastic asshole that this world has ever seen?

No.

Well, kid, then you really don’t get it. I want you to succeed. I want you to fucking conquer your doubts, demolish every brick I’ve laid, and I want you to be someone with an impregnable sense of self.

Why?

SO THERE’S A CHALLENGE! YOU ARE TOO EASY TO PLAY WITH.

It’s getting boring.

So just go. Just leave me alone, play with someone else.

Have you ever heard, “The devil doesn’t come with a red cape and horns, he comes as everything you wished for”?

Yeah, I have. I never wished for you to be in my life.

You remember that day you wished you could make more friends, when you were just a teeny fucker and felt really alone?

Yeah, I do.

Well, you made some, didn’t you?

Yeah, but that’s because I was a good person, a good friend to them. I listened, and I cared.

You still tell yourself that? I thought you practiced introspection?

I do.

Let the voice in your head tell you what it’s surrounded by then. You weren’t a good person. You were just a piece of playdough, and did you let everything around you mold you?

You’re so fucking lonely. You’re pathetic. Sorry to say, kid, but the jury’s out, and that’s the verdict.

I’ve been a good friend.

You’ve been a useful thing, closer to a dog, a plaything. And as soon as the real you creeps up, you aren’t even a person, how are you supposed to be a friend? You’re a joke.

I don’t believe you.

Do you remember when your first girlfriend started to love you?

Yeah.

What’d you do?

Love her.

You sure acted like it didn’t, you?

Why are you putting all these doubts in my head?

They’re already there.

You misunderstand confidence for ego and feed your ego constantly, rather than building a sense of self, you just build and build upon the delusion until it seeps into your blood and pollutes your mind, your body, and your fucking soul. Why do you think I’m more comfortable inside you than you are?

Why are you even here? Why me? Why do you need me?

I don’t need you. You need me, kid.

I don’t want you.

You remember that day you felt so deeply alone that you just asked for someone to listen, someone to understand how fragile you really are?

Yeah.

I’m here now, aren’t I?

I didn’t want you.

You wanted a friend.

I’m your best friend, kid.

You aren’t. You can’t be.

You remember that day you felt like you needed a community, that day before you picked up that first joint?

Yeah.

You wanted people. I gave them to you. It was your choice to join them. It was your choice to become everything you became after that moment. I didn’t hold you down and shove myself down your throat.

No. I know one thing for sure. You were the reason I was weak enough to become an addict.

Kid, you are already weak. It doesn’t take much to play with you. You wanted friends, I gave them to you. You wanted love, and I dropped it right into your lap.

None of those were right for me.

You thought you were this brick wall. You thought you were the immovable object that could make everything around you better. You thought no matter where you’re at, you’d be a source of good.

I did, I do.

Kid, you are closer to a fucking feather than a wall. Get to know yourself a little. Spend some time in your head, I’m here all the fucking time, I know you don’t visit.

I don’t blame everyone around me. I know I’m to blame.

You can’t blame a feather for flying around. But you are to blame for being a feather. I quite enjoy these games we play.

Which fucking games?

You ‘try’, I acknowledge. You get that little pump, and then just a couple hours later, you’re back to exactly where you started. It’s like playing whack-a-mole, except at least the mole tries to fucking run from the hammer.

URGH! Fuck evading, I’m going to set fire to you. I’ll show you.

33.

What the fuck does that mean?

It’s the 33rd time you’ve said that to me.

Go fuck yourself.

Hey, you’re much more enjoyable to fuck with.

…

Help me. Help me be someone who gives you a better challenge.

Now you’re making it interesting.

Let me help you there. Actually, I should say, help myself. Let me start it off by telling you something. If you think you can build yourself into someone who can stop me from taking everything away. Just remember your 24th birthday. Was it a nice trip, right? You were doing so well.

It was so much fucking fun to take that from you.

I can handle you. I’ve got something I didn’t have before.

What’s that?

People who see the real me, and they’re still going to support me through this.

That’s true. This is the first time you’ve let people see how pathetic you are. I’m surprised they’re sticking around for all this shit.

You can take everything from me, but I know there’s one thing you can’t take away.

What’s that kid?

My life. You need it, because just like I’m nothing without you, you are nothing without me. I’ll be more disciplined when I ask for things in this world from now on. No more twisted genie games.

Let’s see. No one’s more on your side than I am.

Yeah, I’m realizing.

Look out the window? You see it?

No.

Ha, you lonely fucker. Made you look.

You’re a real cunt.

I’m meant to be, kid.

Help me then.

Start by keeping your promises to yourself. It really is that simple.

Okay, and what’s next?

Let’s talk again after you do that shit for a couple of weeks.

…

Oh, and Kid. The real promises, not the easy ones.