My Constant

I am the most interesting, coolest, most intriguing person you could ever hope, and ever could meet.
Until you actually meet me that is
I’m a fake-a fraud-built up to make me feel good and for you to believe that I am everything you wish you could be but aren’t entirely sure as to how to get there.
There are no redeeming qualities in my personality. I am egotistical, insensitive, uncaring, lazy, and everything else your mother yelled at you not to be.
I roll my windows down and listen to my music to loud.
Yeah, I’m that guy.
You want to talk to me, and you finally work the courage up, and do and I leave much to be desired. I do not fulfill your expectations.
Or anyone else’s for that matter…
Self included.
I’m not hard on myself-I’m honest.
Oh, there’s a redeeming quality.
One in a million. Who’d have thought?
Probably those who haven’t met me.
I need to figure out how to stay the enigma I make myself out to be. Perhaps use more one word answers. Silently brood and nod at you with wincing eyes while you ask me something that is impossible to be answered with a nod.
Ever had one of those days where everyone you know seems to not want to be around you because they’re all annoyed with the very thought and dynamic of YOU.
I have recently. By recently I mean every day since my freshmen year of high school.
I am that friend that invites you places and you go and have fun but never think to invite him or her somewhere when it’s your turn to do the inviting. Sure you think of them later, like the next time you see them or whatever, but by that time it’s much to late. You don’t particularly feel bad, just one of those “I’ll do it next time” things.
That phrase is my motto.
I should inscribe it into something worthwhile.
Maybe a rock…
Maybe across my arms, so every time I look down I can remember it.
It is what I am and what I do.
I’m the best friend you’ll ever had and the first one you’ll ever forget. One day when we’re older you’ll be flipping through an old year book or some shit like it and come across my picture and wonder where I am and what I’m up to. You’ll make a mental note to look me up sometime, maybe give me a ring, but you won’t. Even as you think this you know you won’t.
I hate you.
And me.
And everyone I know.
And everyone you know.
And everyone that the people we both know know.
I’m disappearing.
Evaporating into the air, like a drunk man’s piss in an alley way.
Yes,
I did just compare my self to piss.
You’re thinking it can’t be that bad.
But you’d be wrong
Has your mother every told you that you’re a waste of however many years you’ve been born?
Mine has.
Ever been told you are a pathetic person who amounts to nothing and should paint your bedroom with the contents of your skull.
I’m paraphrasing here, but you get the just.
I’ve been told I love you by someone with an exasperated sigh.
I never get to say “too” in an exchange of “I love you”’s.
It’s only disheartening for the first year.
It’s much like smoking. Sure it burns the first time, but after a while you get used to it. Almost enjoy it. It’s a constant in your life right? Everyone needs some of those.
Even if it is someone who is a single serving girlfriend. No I’m not saying she can only go round one time, I mean that she’s there for one day, and gone for at least a 3 month interval.
Sure I mail her.
Call her.
Talk to her friends.
I’d fax her if she had a fax machine.
I can quote her answering machine.
No joke.
It’d do it not, but I don’t want to endanger a constant or give you clue as to who.
All I have to say is that no matter what any could do I would still love her. Not because I want to, god no not that, but because she is my constant. I need her to be there. When I am confused with my stance with her, I am confused about my life. If we have a falling out, I will fall out of everything that I know, I will hit the rock bottom of everything with the velocity of a number I don’t even know. Yes it is that bad. Yes it is extremely pathetic. My only constant is my main confusion. I don’t know where I am, I am disappearing. I can see through my chest with every heartbeat. I can feel it in that soft spot behind your ears that isn’t quite sure if it’s part of your neck or head. I am disappearing into something I am afraid of. I am disappearing into that short flash of white when you turn a television on or off. Evaporating into the time it takes for a light to turn on when a switch is flicked. I am disappearing.