Remembering a friend

I look back and think to myself: "Perhaps there was something more that I could have done." Honestly, I don't think that there was. We weren't all that close, but to me, he was still a friend.

I remember talking to him intimately about himself. If there was one thing that we shared, it was the fact that we were both bound by duty to appease our families. We both knew that we didn't want to be shackled by duty, instead we wanted to pursue our own dreams and goals. He didn't want to work in the medical field, I didn't want to get into the numbers game.

It was cathartic.

We occasionally saw each other after that. A friendly gathering here and there to watch a random sporting event, passing by each other at school, regardless we met with a smile and a "wassup" or "how ya doing?"

We gave him a nickname. "Cool." The reasoning was simple, every time he sat down, stood up, or leaned up against something, it would seem like he was posing as a male model in a magazine.

It then came as a big surprise, I couldn't believe it, my friends couldn't believe it. We found out the news that he had taken his own life. I can't imagine what his family went through, but for us, we were all speechless.

We agreed to attend the wake.

I watched as his family wept. Not knowing the why, all they knew was that they lost a son. We sat near the back, not knowing why. All we knew was that we lost a friend. As a group we walked up to his coffin. Each one of us paid our respects, not knowing what to say to his family. The only words I could muster up were "I'm sorry for your loss."

To this day, I still don't believe that it was him laying inside that coffin. It didn't look like him. To me, this friend is still out there somewhere. Leaning against a lamppost waiting for someone in his usual cool demeanor.

Damn it John. You are missed man.

Same difference

Just my luck.

I keep flipping a stupid coin that can only come up tails but I still call "heads."

Story of my life. I just can't win.

Shitty Day

Frustration. Anger.

Why can't I just come home and hear "Welcome back." Is that too much to ask for?

Talking to myself

I keep telling myself that things will be okay.

I wish I would stop lying.

Let's be candid

I hate my family.

Social mores say I should love my family unconditionally.

I say fuck that.

They do nothing but try to outdo each other. They don't play nice with each other. At every gathering they try to put on a face of being one happy family. The paper thin happiness that they put up is obvious.

I'm sick of it.

The "cousins" as we call ourselves are always put into some kind of good-for-nothing competition with each other for no reason. Henry is doing that, Michael is doing that. Tommy has this. Jimmy has that. We never asked to be put onto your pedestals. We never asked to be glorified and vilified.

I say fuck that.

"Fuck that."

So what am I?

It happens again. I sit here, listening to a girl I want to date talk about the guy who played with her feelings, who used her for a month and then abandoned her.

I try to play ambassador for the male gender. Try to redeem my sex in some manner and fashion.

Suddenly all the instances just like this replay in my mind.

"I mean every guy...except you."

It was yet again the same old story.
Here I am, trying to redeem my gender and yet, I'm the exception.

So if I'm an exception to the male gender

...then what the hell am I?

A question

I sat at the table, Looking at all my family around me.
Everyone was quiet.

Some had a bowl to their mouths, others were chewing.

Yet no smiles. Just eating and silence.

Is this a real family?