This Is Why We Can’t Be Friends
You ask me why we can’t be friends, and well, this is why:
You’re not purpose driven. There is nothing crazy and bizarre and so odd inside of you.
When I look into your eyes I see …
Acceptance. That this is just how life is. That this is the life you chose. That this is the road you must pave, and yet, at the same, I see –
That this is just how life is.
That this is the life you chose.
That this is the road you must pave, and yet –
You’ll do nothing.
When I look from your eyes and try to peer into your soul, I see –
It’s almost as though you have no soul. And I know that you do, that you MUST, yes I fully TRUST, that each of us –
With a purpose.
And gifts, which are ours and ours alone, but yet it’s almost as though …?
Which is to say, really –
You’re not willing.
You’re not willing to fight. For the life you were born for.
You’re not willing to lay. It all on the line.
You’re not willing to risk EVERYTHING and die trying.
To live the one.true.life. you were born to live.
This is why we can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends because when I look into my own eyes my own soul my own journal my own truth my very DNA I see somebody –
Who will make more mistakes and screw it up more than what one would think is humanly even possible –
But yet who will NEVER.
Fail to then get back up again and go back into the fray.
Once bloodied, twice as determined.
Once beaten, three times as willing.
Once BROKEN, hardened into molten steel.
We can’t be friends because when I LOOK at my TRUE friends, those who I would die for and fight for and will LIVE side by side along, those who I fell in love with the moment my soul met theirs, those who I am inspired by and elevated from, purely through knowing they EXIST, I see –
And when I look at you and we try to connect –
With a look.
Or a message.
Or a touch, I feel –
You don’t inspire me.
You don’t excite me.
It’s almost as though –
You don’t exist. So flat is the beat of my heart, around yours.
(Do you have? A heart? Why don’t you USE it –
So when I am around you, when you make your way into my space, when you are somehow (irritatingly) –
THERE, I feel –
In my flow.
And I think to myself –
“Who let you in here, anyway?”
Into my space.
Into my area.
Onto my page.
Anywhere near my life.
And I turn –
Quickly, or as quickly as I can!
Before it perhaps rubs off.
Although it can NEVER rub off.
We can’t be friends because you see the world like THIS and you want to know THAT and you think it’s about? I don’t know …
What somebody else said?
What is POSSIBLE?
And I think –
And my friends think –
I’LL BE RIGHT THERE ALONGSIDE YOU, RULING IT TOO.
Or the highway.
We can’t be friends because you see the world like this. In chunks. And blocks. And 2D, and maybe a little 3.
And I see the world like this –
As a BEAUTIFUL FUCKING MESS OF ALL THAT I CAN FEEL AND DREAM AND IMBIBE.
And imbibe it I WILL.
This is why we can’t be friends.
My friends, they rant and the bleed and they cry and they yearn and they NEVER –
Stop to seek.
My friends, they live for what is INSIDE of them and fuck everything AROUND of them and they don’t care what you THINK of them and they will DIE –
For what they know they must.
Will die with them.
1000 times –
As I let it all come crashing down, in the quest to then built it back ANEW, and ALIGNED, and as it HAS TO BE.
I could go on and on. I could tell you stories that would go for days. I could explain it –
And explain it –
And try to PROCLAIM it –
Until the day you die, but.
We can’t be friends because you are who are you, and so you must remain.
Will do the same.
Don’t forget –
Life is Now. Press Play.