on what selfishness implied.

‘say whatever you want, it just swings and misses, none of this means a fucking thing to me. if you want to joust about the bullshit you wish was different, go upstairs and look in the mirror’ it was a callous thing to say, but he didn’t much care. it had been years of the same, he wasn’t going to change, nothing if not self aware, these interventions were as circular as they were productive. his old friend just smiled, this manic smile devoid of emotion, before finally speaking ‘you can pretend to hide inside your armour, you always have, but you always end up back here, never seeing how it effects all of us. you don’t see that the bursts of caring and friendship are worse. because where are you the rest of the time, you go fuck off wherever and come back when it’s convenient for you. so whatever. yeah.. go. stay this time, go wrestle your demons and stop pretending we’ll be around when you need to self-medicate and make yourself feel better. you’re right I miss the old times, I miss my best friend, but who knows where that guy is, maybe you’re right, maybe he’s gone..’ now it was him who was blank. staring. thinking. he knew he was selfish, what hadn’t occurred to him was that he was so selfish he didn’t understand what it implied. the lack of empathy.