I was there, too.

Exactly what kind of fence have I erected in my life?
Tell me again with that ever scrutinizing, perfect perspective.

He wore the same suit everyday, even after we knew he was unemployed for over a month.
He would wander up to the gas station to buy a 40, and he chose you, because you had access to a car.

You know that now, right?

He told me in the end, “I just want you to know I’ve never done heroin in my life,” even though I repeatedly tried to cut off the conversation by telling him I didn’t care, wasn’t interested, it didn’t concern me, and it was none of my business what he did or did not do.

He really wanted me to know.
He hated that I gave my time and consideration to a fuck up like you with a stand up guy like him right there.

You.

I sought you out.
I stayed with you in the pile of cans you passed out in next to your rotting mattress and fetid takeout containers.

With the carpet of roaches.

You always drank yourself stupid with him and told him he was so much better than the degradation we were all experiencing, but what you failed to see was that he wanted to be there.
He wasn’t going through a rough time working his ass off to improve with his dress shoes tapping up an optimists tune.
He wasn’t beaten into submission like half the washed up dropouts crawling through the halls.

I don’t think I need to clarify how I felt about him
or you.