I am a lot of things to a lot of people. I am a Brother and Lover and Friend and Bear and Bruncle and Father and Confidant and People and Tribe and so many other words that don’t mean anything to anyone other than myself and a single person, or a group of three, or maybe to no one at all because they are gone.

I am all of these things and I am so very happy that I have the opportunity to be them. I love people, I love to love people, I love that I love to love people. You get the point I think.

Here is what I am not.

I am not the guy you know who knows how the drug things work and if you should go to the ER if this or that is happening. You are not calling me because you want to know a yes or a no, you want someone else to make a call. I may have been a drug dealer and a junkie, but I can assure you that I am so far removed from those things as to be laughable to people who do not happen to know it is true. I am not the person you are going to call at three in the morning and ask where to score an eight-ball cause your Lady dumped you and you’re feeling “less than ideal for socializing” right now. I am not the person who is going to enable you when you tell me that I did it, so I am a hypocrite if I tell you not to. I am not the person who is going to pick up the phone to talk to you, text you, or talk to the guy who is with you that is terrified because you haven’t told them what you are on because you have no idea because you literally believe it when a dude who sells you a bag of powder says that “it will be fine, it’s all good” and then takes your three large. I will not be your alibi anymore, I will not be your excuse, your lie, your secret, your contact, your friend or your acquaintance.

I am not the guy who is going to lie to your girlfriend/wife about where you were because you wanted a little strange you met at some skeezy ass dive bar on a goddamn Tuesday. I am not going to sit with her and hold her hand while you are gone, knowing exactly where you are and duty-bound by some goddamn twenty-year-old debt I have paid you a thousandfold for. I am not going to be the biggest skeleton in a closet full of a graveyard. I am not going to be the one who gets to hold them as they cry when you, again, leave the state to avoid everything from an audit from your boss to TWENTY YEARS of child support payments you pretended you didn’t need to make because you decided that he didn’t look enough like you and that was that.

I am not the guy who is going to be your emotional jizz rag anymore and then, when I need ANYTHING, you walk away like you didn’t hear someone screaming from their knees for you to take the gun out of their hand because you didn’t want to “get involved with that crazy you shit”. I will not keep you on the wagon year after year and then be there when you fall off of it to wipe your puke and shit off the floor, not for the eighth time I won’t be.

I am not the guy who is going to apologize for falling in love with who I fell in love with because it was inconvenient to your feelings. I will not sit idly by and watch you destroy something that was wonderful because of no other reason than you could do the damn thing and fucking with people is what gets you hard at night.

I will not take your praise and lap up your attention because you deigned to show me fucking humanity, which was a lie anyway. I OWE YOU NOTHING.

Lastly, and importantly, I owe so many, so much. Unpayable debts, unfixable pain, untold anguish.

Do not pretend you are on that list because I trusted you enough to tell you about it.

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