Now, I have been sitting for a few days, and I think I have a handle on what I want to say, oddly enough, about things I have already said elsewhere. Call it a consolidation of thoughts and the delicate balance between telling too little and saying far, far too much. I know I will most likely be guilty of these crimes before I am done here, but in a way, I suppose that is for the best.

Don’t worry, it’s going to make even less sense from here.

Ia m the person that listens. Yes, I know there are historical records of me not, but for the most part, I am your friend that will sit and listen to you for hours, cheerleader you like a motherfucker and help you plan where the bodies need to go when you are done extracting their skull for your new wine glass. I will hold you while you scream-cry into my shoulder and, I suppose most importantly, for this particular message, I will never judge you for what you feel or do.

Then, maybe you say something that completely shakes my compass on how I handle certain things, and I have to reevaluate my entire decision-making paradigm. You say a word that breaks down all of the very well crafted defenses that I have put up over the years that even survived my Naomi’s death unscathed. You tell me that I, yes I, am responsible for your sanity. I am better off than you mentally and that if you are in a depressive state, I have to extricate you from this state and set you on the trail to moral and social happiness.

So, no. Let us break down this, for the sake of argument if nothing else.

Firstly, by trying to make me responsible for your action, or inaction, in terms of your mental health, you are placing me in a role that not only do I refuse to consent to but in a position of power over you that, quite frankly, revolts me to the core. I am not going to be your excuse for any ambiguity in your actions. I am not a scapegoat if you do Z instead of A. I am not going to be your parent, your father-confessor, your Dutch Uncle, or any other half put together analogous word I can think of that means in charge of you in any way. I refuse this responsibility in every way and, as the Shermanesque quote, paraphrased, says, “I hereby state, and mean all that I say, that I never have been and never will be a candidate for your goddamn mental health boss; that if nominated by either party, I should peremptorily decline; and even if unanimously elected I should decline to serve.”

Secondly, who told you that I am better off than you in the mental department anyway? I am not going to have a pissing contest and list things, no I am going to say it takes some fucking gall to assume that another person is I a better position because, by that person being in said position, it helps your cause and proves a point that is not yours to make. I will not continue to entertain your delusions, I can’t, I have my own issues I am literally typing about as we speak and you are not in the top fifty of those things that I have to worry about on a daily fucking basis.

Thirdly and Lastly, In what gumdrop consumption universe do you think you live that you think you can tell people that they are there for your personal 911 service? That when YOU are in need, it is MY job to come in like some very bloated and hairy Superman and rescue you from yourself? This isn’t about you trusting me either, so don’t pull that card. This isn’t that I am the only person who can do it, this is because I am convenient and I despise having unanswered text messages, so I almost always text back when you text me your paragraphs of negativity that, apparently in my better mental state, I am supposed to absorb and turn around and in a Care Bear stare fashion, sprinkle you with fairy happy dust and make it all go away.

So, as I said, no.

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