To The Worst Poet Ever: Go F**k Yourself!
"It's not okay to belittle people... or treat them with cruelty or ridicule"
- Jimmy (The Practice S8)
D!ckheads have had a special place in my life. It's purely because of my casual positive attitude towards everything, and a rather personal choice of feeling obligated to be generous to others in general. I've been at the disposal of some of the worst people by choice, keeping potentially better - if not more sensitive or civilised - friendships on hold before a real entry into my life.
The quote above has had a deep and instant connection to my inner world lately. A friend, who left no chance to belittle me out of his possible envy - or God knows what - towards me for being more privileged than him, had in his mid twenties lost perhaps the most special person in his life. At the time, I hadn't lost anything or anyone that special, and it forces me to think maybe that gave him the idea, at least on a subliminal level, or the urge to criticise anything and everything about me, sometimes at the oddest times. He was disturbed and the depth of it only grew more violently in the years to come. His rather testing if not embarrassing demeanor in front of others and abusive language in presence of my family was becoming a big inconvenience few months before I cut off from him completely. He would call me names. Once he called me "bhukhad", meaning glutton, completely misjudging the degree of comfort I felt at the apartment his family shared. He never saw me use dirty language in front of my sister and yet, to appear 'cool' perhaps, he used cuss words while speaking with her. I always respected his equation and space in my family - a pure bi-product of our friendship - but he had grown only disrespect for mine. My dignity, as a person and as a human being, was pushed to the core in his presence many a time. He never told me directly but conveyed to me perfectly in his behaviour that I was less and there was nothing he could gain or learn from me.
The truth is: I miss my friend, with the saddest thing of it all being that I miss the friend he once was. I got addicted to throwing people out of my life for no real reasons after I stopped all communication with this character. To date, I have problems letting people know I'm there for them, even when I feel so.
Today I'm 28 and have no real friends. I wake up with a scream in my head thinking about electricity bills and due dates. I blame this guy to a great extent.
Yes, I did get involved with one of his close friends but that was after his misbehave had completed months if not years. I did get involved with her on top of his friendly remarks on multiple occasions that "you guys should really date each other" and "you both are so similar". I've done fine in my life. The problem is I never felt anything in my life was less impressive or just less. I always had a great heart, the enormity of which characters like him and especially him could apparently never see. His friend, on the other hand, flirted with me openly in my several deep-or-so conversations with her. I don't blame her that much though; she only read the obvious since I was young and looked desperate enough for the opposite sex in my acts.
I miss him for making me feel good about creative things which I never felt ever again. This was the same person who helped me initiate a conversation with a girl l I would date for 5 years or so. I valued my time with her the same way I valued this person who was no less than a real brother.
I miss him because he was a good person once and a good person within him perhaps always. I hope he comes to terms with his state of mind which perhaps is invisible to him. If I were to envy him, I would do so with sheer passion for he has always been a lucky one in terms of a stunningly supportive family and abundance of friends with quite a few of good people. I would envy him for having friends like me to have pushed themselves to the last of miles hoping for better behaviour ahead. I would envy him for being lucky.
If I were to calculate how much I owe him for what he was once, I cannot calculate the night-long international calls he would make to catch up, laugh and share all the dreams he had had in recent times. I cannot calculate in monetary terms the cost he paid n number of times to take me to the movies with him for the years I was unemployed. I cannot calculate how blessed he made me feel when he did. I cannot calculate how awful I felt about me because of him over the years.
Friends come and friends go. But urges and confidence die for once.
I didn't tell him when I lost my father at a similar age. For the simple reason that I always knew he was troubled, I never tried to contact him thereafter. Also I was mad at him for the simple fact that despite being close to my family once, he never asked me or them how they were doing. I never told him that I lost my father, the woman he had introduced me to, and another "best" friend at an age similar to one at which he lost his one of the most important pillars.
Not a day goes by when I don't feel bad about myself. It's my weakness which he contributes to successfully. I wish I could get by appearing all mature and tough. But my strength is already out there; my strength needs no protection from forces like this one. I probably could have handled it all in a better way without having to lose him, but I was in my early twenties for God's sake. I miss him, in a bittersweet way. I also feel kind of ashamed for flirting with his female friends; he was always surrounded by part-angels, I once felt!
- Jimmy (The Practice S8)
D!ckheads have had a special place in my life. It's purely because of my casual positive attitude towards everything, and a rather personal choice of feeling obligated to be generous to others in general. I've been at the disposal of some of the worst people by choice, keeping potentially better - if not more sensitive or civilised - friendships on hold before a real entry into my life.
The quote above has had a deep and instant connection to my inner world lately. A friend, who left no chance to belittle me out of his possible envy - or God knows what - towards me for being more privileged than him, had in his mid twenties lost perhaps the most special person in his life. At the time, I hadn't lost anything or anyone that special, and it forces me to think maybe that gave him the idea, at least on a subliminal level, or the urge to criticise anything and everything about me, sometimes at the oddest times. He was disturbed and the depth of it only grew more violently in the years to come. His rather testing if not embarrassing demeanor in front of others and abusive language in presence of my family was becoming a big inconvenience few months before I cut off from him completely. He would call me names. Once he called me "bhukhad", meaning glutton, completely misjudging the degree of comfort I felt at the apartment his family shared. He never saw me use dirty language in front of my sister and yet, to appear 'cool' perhaps, he used cuss words while speaking with her. I always respected his equation and space in my family - a pure bi-product of our friendship - but he had grown only disrespect for mine. My dignity, as a person and as a human being, was pushed to the core in his presence many a time. He never told me directly but conveyed to me perfectly in his behaviour that I was less and there was nothing he could gain or learn from me.
The truth is: I miss my friend, with the saddest thing of it all being that I miss the friend he once was. I got addicted to throwing people out of my life for no real reasons after I stopped all communication with this character. To date, I have problems letting people know I'm there for them, even when I feel so.
Today I'm 28 and have no real friends. I wake up with a scream in my head thinking about electricity bills and due dates. I blame this guy to a great extent.
Yes, I did get involved with one of his close friends but that was after his misbehave had completed months if not years. I did get involved with her on top of his friendly remarks on multiple occasions that "you guys should really date each other" and "you both are so similar". I've done fine in my life. The problem is I never felt anything in my life was less impressive or just less. I always had a great heart, the enormity of which characters like him and especially him could apparently never see. His friend, on the other hand, flirted with me openly in my several deep-or-so conversations with her. I don't blame her that much though; she only read the obvious since I was young and looked desperate enough for the opposite sex in my acts.
I miss him for making me feel good about creative things which I never felt ever again. This was the same person who helped me initiate a conversation with a girl l I would date for 5 years or so. I valued my time with her the same way I valued this person who was no less than a real brother.
I miss him because he was a good person once and a good person within him perhaps always. I hope he comes to terms with his state of mind which perhaps is invisible to him. If I were to envy him, I would do so with sheer passion for he has always been a lucky one in terms of a stunningly supportive family and abundance of friends with quite a few of good people. I would envy him for having friends like me to have pushed themselves to the last of miles hoping for better behaviour ahead. I would envy him for being lucky.
If I were to calculate how much I owe him for what he was once, I cannot calculate the night-long international calls he would make to catch up, laugh and share all the dreams he had had in recent times. I cannot calculate in monetary terms the cost he paid n number of times to take me to the movies with him for the years I was unemployed. I cannot calculate how blessed he made me feel when he did. I cannot calculate how awful I felt about me because of him over the years.
Friends come and friends go. But urges and confidence die for once.
I didn't tell him when I lost my father at a similar age. For the simple reason that I always knew he was troubled, I never tried to contact him thereafter. Also I was mad at him for the simple fact that despite being close to my family once, he never asked me or them how they were doing. I never told him that I lost my father, the woman he had introduced me to, and another "best" friend at an age similar to one at which he lost his one of the most important pillars.
Not a day goes by when I don't feel bad about myself. It's my weakness which he contributes to successfully. I wish I could get by appearing all mature and tough. But my strength is already out there; my strength needs no protection from forces like this one. I probably could have handled it all in a better way without having to lose him, but I was in my early twenties for God's sake. I miss him, in a bittersweet way. I also feel kind of ashamed for flirting with his female friends; he was always surrounded by part-angels, I once felt!
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