Childish

You went low.

I followed.

Childish.

This came out all wrong.

My intentions were noble.

Could've handled it different.

But you wouldn't have listened.

I staked friendship on tough love.

I Lost.

Still. Whose the real loser?

Dictionaries disappoint.

Friend ( P ) n.

1. A person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.
2. A person whom one knows; an acquaintance.
3. A person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade.
4. One who supports, sympathizes with, or patronizes a group, cause, or movement: friends of the clean air movement.
5. Friend A member of the Society of Friends; a Quaker.

What is a friend? In the most basic of senses, a friend is someone who will be there for you in your time of need. A friend is someone who will listen to you, support you, and help you when you ask. A friend will tell it like it is.

But is a friend still a friend if they see you fucking up and continue to support you in your narrow visioned meanderings? A friend is no longer a friend when they'll lie to you and tell you "everything is going to be just fine" when they know that this is not the case. A friend is not someone who be your enabler for your go-nowhere patterns. A friend is not someone who you can tell your secrets to, but in matters of truth you plug your ears. As dramatic as I'm making that sound, it wasn't that bad because it was inevitable.

She changed and I missed it.

She said, "Maybe that's why I've kept my distance from you over the years: you have a complete lack of tact." What is tact? It's throwing stones wrapped in cotton balls. I've thrown many of those in an attempt to get through to her. It isn't that I lack tact, it's that I've run out of patience.

She said, "I can't help but feel sad for you." Whether this was an "in general" comment, I don't know. I would've laughed if it didn't hurt so much to see the severity and extent of her delusion.

I was there for you when you thought you were pregnant. I wanted to be it's father figure.

I was there for you when you left your project at home. I brought it and an apple. You dropped out of school.

I was there for you the first time you wanted to go back to school. You didn't follow through.

I was the one who reconciled the silence the first time we lost touch. It was your birthday. I cared.

I never thought you were a slut, just lost.

I was there for you during the hospital ordeal. I sat there under the uncomfortable glances of the nurses while you were being examined in the next room.

I stayed on the phone, listening to your incessant complaints and near-tear lamentations.

Everything I did I did out of friendship, but I was never your friend. I was just another sucker.

an elegy

Tell me that you've failed, and I won't tell you I told you so, but I will make the face.

Tell me that you're scared, and I'll tell you that the age of jumping at shadows should be far behind you by now.

Tell me that you want to go back to school, and I'll tell you we've been down this road before.

Tell me that you're strong, and I'll tell you the truth.

Tell me to tell you what you want to hear, and I won't.

Tell me you don't need me, that you have yourself, and I'll hear the quiver in your voice.

Come on ladies, level with me.

When I watch television and I see a commercial for feminine hygiene products boasting the absorbency, comfort, or stealthiness of their product I always found something amiss. Recently I was watching television and was blind-sided by one such commercial. I think it was for the Always brand of pads.
.....The scene: A woman is in her bedroom, floral colours abound, a light breeze blowing her sarong. (Yes, I know what a sarong is.) She’s smiling, laughing, and even dancing. Note: she is all by herself. In the background the "theme" song for the commercial plays triumphantly "I LOVE COTTON! I LOVE ALWAYS!!" The voice over goes into explaining what this woman is so happy about, but this commercial has reaffirmed my doubt concerning the discomfort women feel during their monthly ride on the cotton pony.
.....From my limited knowledge of what it’s like to actually have a period, I doubt a pad would result in the euphoric, somewhat religious, cathartic experience this particular woman was undergoing. Especially when the commercial simply boasts that the new pads are now infused with cotton! The only reasonable course of thought is this: Having a period must be fun as shit. Can you blame me though? I mean look at that woman. She’s practically rapturous! Dancing, smiling manically, and carrying on like blissful mental patient.
.....About the pads though. Again, from my limited knowledge of pads, such advancements in pad technology has really taken off. First it was wings, then a combination of chemical and cloth that sucked that not-so-fresh feeling/smell into a "hide away core", and now... COTTON! Well fuck me and call me, Sally. That is some good Pad, maybe it is enough to make a woman do a little jig in her room when no one is looking.
.....Returning to the Always commercial I saw. Right at the end of the commercial, the woman who was dancing and singing and smiling all by her lonesome gets her shit disturbed by her husband/lover/cabana boy. She's all embarrassed that she's been caught. This only strengthens my belief that having a period must be one of the most enjoyable experiences a man will never know. Over human history women have made it known that having a period is not fun, but is it the truth? Could the monthly, week-long slothing out and shedding of an unused uterine lining actually be more fun than a barrel of monkeys? Has this Always commercial just outted the one thing women have managed to keep secret from men? Come on ladies, level with me.