I try not to be hurt by the rocks you sling at me.
I know you don’t know you’re spitting them out every time you open your mouth.
But I know your kind.
I know your oblivious break downers.
Your not-meaning-to-do harmers.
Your back-handed-compliment giver outers.
The night you teased me about losing
Still breaks my heart.
I know I should be tougher.
Should have iron clad skin and steel for nails
But that’s all on the outside and I let you in months ago.
You and I are different.
Upside down and inside out
you and I see the world different ways.
And I wish I could turn my head and see your perspective but I’ve broken my neck too many times.
Tried all too hard to see the world through other peoples eyes.
And just once
Just for once
I would like you to see what you’re doing
Every time you open that scraggled jaw of yours.
I’ve stood on my own feet screaming my qualifications too long.
I’ve been tough and I’ve been kind.
I’ve been the one who was there every time you fell.
I’ve been there for you.
And every single time you needed me
But when I need you
You are nowhere.
And every time you get the chance
You spit rocks at me standing on my precarious wall of self confidence.
You claim you don’t know what you do.
You claim to be oblivious to all the things you’ve said too sharply.
But I am done giving a damn.
I am done writing out excuses for you on notepads I keep by my bed.
I am done defending you to the people who matter.
I am done.
I hope someday to hear your voice again
But this time whispering my accomplishments.
Rehashing what we are in to some kind of friendship.
But for now you don’t respect me.
As a person
or as a writer.
And I’m leaving your depressing condescending self on this metaphorical street corner
Because I’m done caring what you say
Only to have you say too sharp words and idiotic phrases.
You think you’re high and mighty.
You think you don’t need people like me
Defending you at every avenue
Trying to keep your fragile ego intact.
But at least I have the decency to be a decent person.
I don’t care if I’m not the greatest writer.
I’ve still got soul on the page.
And I still deserve some kind of love
From the people I count closest.
So screw you.
I’ve got better things to do.
Better things to write about.
And maybe when you die
Millions will know your name.
Mourn the death of a great writer.
But when I die
People will mourn the death of a great person.
A greater friend.
A greater lover.
So keep those rocks in your mouth.
I don’t need any more self doubt.
Sure I lost to you and the mighty words you keep repeating
But I would rather be me
This apprentice wordsmith
Than someone so self deprecating
So self loathing
That I had to keep reminding others of their failures.
I would rather be me
Than be anything like you.