Call on my brothers

by Crom

I’ve never been the perfect friend. I’ve tried as hard as I could to be someone that people liked, and then I stopped trying and found out who my real friends were. But, even after I started to relax and become comfortable with the friends I had, I was never perfect. No one is, and sometimes you let a friend down. There are times when it’s not entirely your fault, when letting them down was the result of bad timing, or when your own welfare needed to be taken into account. I’ve always tried to put my friends before myself, but sometimes you need to look out for your own well being.

I’ve always maintained that my friends could call on me. Anytime, anywhere, if they needed me I was there for them. There’ve been times when it was necessary to sacrifice my own time and convenience, times when I had to take a hit for the team. I never regret those times, nor will I avoid them in the future. That’s what being a bro is all about. I’ve made mistakes, I’ve fucked up. And, I’ve been forgiven, because that’s what bro’s do, they watch out for each other and let it slide when you fuck up.

But there’s a flip side to every coin.

When every time you lay your trust in someone else’s hands, and they don’t come through, you feel robbed. Sometimes it’s not something that big, it’s not even that big of an inconvenience. But, you still feel bad. And, when the problem persists you get fed-up and angry. Your friends are supposed to be watching your back, but more and more they seem to give no more concern over your well being then they’d give some gum on their shoe. The problems always come at a bad time too, when the problem is most sharply felt. You try not to become mad, knowing that they’re your friends and that they do sometimes make mistakes. But, as the months go by and they never bother to call, or invite you out; or even ask you how you’re doing, then you start to feel the gap.

I’ve had the phone call, the one where someone says “hey man, do you know where “Enter Name here” is? We’re trying to go to “Enter club here” and I can’t find him” or my favorite, “hey dude, uh you wanna come to mercury tonight? And , uh could you pick me up?”

All you want to do is smash your phone through the wall. They show up half cut, drink all your booze and wake you up 3 times. The next day they make their excuses and leave, never thinking about the money they owe or the mess they’ve made. You act cold and aloof and they get pissed off, wondering why you’re not respecting their shit. Never realizing for a moment that they’ve been ignoring you for months, only call when they need a ride somewhere, and don’t give a shit about whether or not they mooched you out of 30 bucks. They return your stuff ruined, they “find” personal possessions of yours on their person, and they use your rare coins for parking change. It’s sad more then anything, because you still want them to be friends, but the cost emotionally is too high. You can’t deal with the disregard for feelings and intrusions on your life at random intervals.

No I’m not the perfect friend. I’m absent-minded, I’m a messy eater, I forget to put things away, I swear too much, I forget birthdays, I’m bad with money, I drive like mad max, I’d forget a phone number tattooed on my hand, I don’t return phone calls, and I use all the hot water. No, I’m not perfect… but I’m trying.

  • Call on my brothers
  • by Crom
  • Published on July 1st, 2001

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