not to my best friends, because they are obvious and anything i would say to them i hope they already know. anything i haven't expressed i could never admit.this may sound sarcastic at times, but every word is sans cere.
****
1. you inspire me. conversing with you, i sit up straighter, shoot the shit sharper, and snark snider. i hope one day you'll realize how far you outstrip me, gather up your stardust and expand. i hope you never do.
i like to sift through your photographs and note how cohesive your composition never fails to be. i like to then look at my own photos and struggle with whether or not to throw them all out and pretend i never tried to overstep my point-and-shoot kodak limits in the first place.
nothing is healthier for a self-absorbed pseudo-artiste than to realize she's actually quite shit, and should go sacrifice her soul to a cubicle.
2. you bring out everything i fear about myself and make me love it. i am always at my most self-destructive around you, and i never am happier. you keep me honest; keep me aware that i am not a 'good' person and that Antihero is the archetype i am because Antiheroes don't want redemption.
i suspect one day you'll thinspirate yourself out of existence but the ride there will be exquisite [as will that trip from the Eiffel Tower].
3. you vindicate me. if i had been alone and overpowered by that incessant pressure, i may have cracked. i may have given up. i may have relinquished everything i stand for, and been led docile as they could have ever hoped.
but you finally, finally, came into my life, and regardless of my jokes, i would never have sought a replacement. you are my calvary, my confirmation, my compatriot.
i pray for you under onslaught of every word i cannot twist, every opinion i cannot reconstrue, every mark i cannot shape. but you are vibrant, and you are powerful; you have my dusty footprints to guide you if so you need them.
4. you are all the parts of me i left behind. you are that which curves my feet and directs my path. in no kind way, but all the necessary ones, you are what jolted awake my ambition, and the snark that fueled my flight away from you.
i wonder if you have found your own reasons to grow, or if you are still content in the squalor of your personality. many days, i do not care, but every day i inhale deeply the air that does not reek of our rotting.
5. you polarize me. with each callous phrase you utter, blundering your way to success with a carefully intuitive grasp of networking policies and a vast reserve of dumb luck, i burn colder and bluer. you are my moral south. in any situation, i recall you, the shadow in the mirror. always your black memory affirms the shades in which i must logically myself be cloaked, and i navigate accordingly.
i blush for the cruel mantle i fasten on your shoulders, but you forever bear it with little affect. one day, i would like to strip you of your many superciliious folds, and examine the creature that conceived of them. i expect, however, that it would resemble too greatly myself.
6. you dented my first fingerprints. an ever-warping kiln, you melted the very muscle from my bones, hoping to leave even them brittle and malleable. but clay hardens with pressure, and though your smudges disfigured me, i retained the shape with which i was born. in some ways, you gave me focus; by setting me up to swerve, you ensured i would never sway, and i thank you with all vindication for creating the very same black sheep that you shun.
i would say more, like that my gratitude extends to debt, but my continued willingness to pretend that i yearn to appease you makes us even. my capacity to respect a creature that refuses to acknowledge upon me any such similar courtesy is too limited for anything else.
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