Your World

"I know you!" he kept screaming. "I know you! I know you!"
But he clearly didn't. I would never associate myself with people like him.
A man like myself puts his mind in company of other bright minds, not a dickhead to remind himself he's best.
I like making small talk with the soft hearted and the badasses,
And anyone who had a serious story to tell without intruding my space.
But if they drag me down and make me start losing my pace, we've got an issue.
And that's why this guy could never know me.
He pushed it from the awkward beginning.
I hated him, and still he tolerated me. Eventually I learned how to return the favor, and I paid a dear price for that.
But all the time we got into any serious conversation, it never went both ways.
He threw out my back with the constant flow of bitching about his miserable life, his parents, his crushes, and his inane jealousy of me that he could never overcome.
It was then that I knew he'd never really respect me.
People judged him based on everything. What clothes he wore, what music he liked, which hand he jacked off with...Everything.
So my tolerance of his odd style was a blessing to him.
But no matter who his friends were,
He'd never be me. That's not bragging, that's the truth.
And it suddenly became my fault when his eightieth crush had lost the interest in him she never had.

I don't hear from him that much anymore.
He mainly stays silent in the dark back alleys of mind,
But someday soon I expect him to jump out and finally show some honesty.
He'll yell to me from the far corner of my cares:
"I want your lifestyle.
I want your clothes, I want your music, I want your ambidextriosity.
I want to be the person I could never be.
And the reason?" he'd say.
"I know whose world this is.
I want to be the one who steps up to save it."