Singing sad, sad songs.
I try to be there for everyone.
Not quite an island unto myself, but certainly a rock, an anchoring point for others in the midst of a sea of steaming chaos. (Yes, chaos steams.)
I try to be good to everyone. People always need a best friend, a voice of reason in the tumultuous darkness.
I desire to be that best friend, chiefly because I realize that good people are few and far between, and because I feel everyone deserves to have someone to trust. Everyone deserves that feeling of security.
I realize that for the most part, altruism is dead, as it is often bemoaned.
By soothing fears and and quieting tears I manage to make myself like myself more.
I give myself more reasons not to give up the good fight, to keep the faith, etc. All those lame clichés.
It isn’t about personal sacrifice for me. I just handle things well. There was never any other option for me. I never gave myself other options. May as well share the wealth. Or the strength. However you may interpret it.
I’m made of steel.
I’m made of ice.
I’m a superhero.
I need to do this as surely as others might need me.
And I’m OK with that, if you are. Regardless of these selfish slants, I really do try to be a damn good friend.