"You okay?"
"What a dumb fucking question. I mean, are you okay? Forget that. Do you really think 'are you okay' is an appropriate question?" I nearly bit my tongue off. I hadn't felt that angry in a long time, but for some reason I was filled with vile, putrid, rage. And I had nowhere to put it. "Listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
"Yes you did. It's okay, though. You're a pro at this, I'd imagine you've been asked that a lot."
"Nothing to be proud of."
"You know the entire family looks up to you."
"Yea that was a nice thought but it doesn't work like that."
"No I'm serious! They all really do! They all wish they could keep their composure like you do. You don't break down, you don't cry even when people are crying on you for you! And they all admire you for it."
"You know what, man?"
"..."
"I'm pretty young, but I'm not new to this. I'm really fucking thrilled that they all think I'm awesome because they can't hold themselves together. But this isn't it. This is far from the surface. Everyone in that room...you know what, forget it."
"No go ahead, please. I want to be here for you."
"Oh my god! Please just stop! 'I want to be here for you'? Are you kidding me?" He didn't say anything. He looked terrified. I felt terrible, like I had just brought someone into my hell of an existence. "Look, I admire what you're trying to do, I really do, but the reason I'm so good at these things is because no one else is. I don't like my part, but I play it as well as I know how. Just...just don't ever be me, please?"
"I'd never want to." I smiled.
"Glad you understand. Good talk." I left it at that. I walked past the parking lot, past the hearse, and up the street, stabbing at the daemons with a lit cigarette and a grin.
3 comments:
I never understood why people always thing that others want to be martyrs.
*think
i never understand when people think they are martyrs
"we need the fucking space..."
smiles for everyone!
5/5
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