A Rare Moment of Introspection.

...I'm clever. I'll just say it. I'm not sure if I've relied too heavy on it, but in this hopefully short piece, I want to reflect on that fact.

I've rarely written with my actual, honest to God voice. Maybe this will be enlightening to me. I'm so close to that now, because of the way my life has been going.

Stress. Sophomore Review. Needing to work harder to pass classes that I may not get a second chance in. A friend who might be slipping away. Lack of sleep, spending four hours at most laying awake in bed and just THINKING. Chasing thoughts and subroutines back to their source to untangle just what the fuck makes me ME.

It's like my own personal rampancy. I may as well find out what's causing it.

I'll try to be sequential, so I'm not so all over the place.

My colleagues find me funny. Clever. They invite me places. They ask me my opinion on things during gaps in the conversation. They make small talk, and I spice it up with my dry wit.

Those people who I refer to as "colleagues." I typed that word specifically. Not "friends."

I have immense affection for every last one of them, and I can NEVER thank them enough for being with me through life, don't get me wrong, but something in me, even in casual conversation, hesitates. I can't say the word that seems more appropriate. "Friends."

Because friends share each-other. Friends lean on each-other. Share secrets. Believe in each-other.

But nobody has ever reached out to me in a real way. Nobody has ever let me have that true, sincere part of them. Nobody has ever looked for me, to be that shoulder to cry on. That last minute team-mate who always comes through.

It might be because I'm so clever, that that's all I'm needed for.

Would my friends just go away if I wasn't funny?

If so, WHY don't I blame THEM for that? What's wrong with ME? Why can't I cast the nadir of my hate and anger on THEM?

Because I know it's me. Something in me prevents me from bullshitting and casting blame on THEM.

Let's move on.

I'm not popular with many women. I have a loving girlfriend, true, but women rarely gravitate towards me.

It's because I lack something. I don't know what it is, but I don't have it to give.

It's a type of...DANGER, really. Something women expect. Something they demand from a lover.

Lucy, bless her soul, had had ENOUGH of that thing by the time she met me.

It's that thing that makes a man flirt, or tease a woman. That thing that makes them blush and turn away, still smiling. That thing that a PREDATOR has.

I don't have it. Women like me, but in a way that makes them feel safe. Like I'm the good friend.

I won't say that women friend-zone me because the entire concept of the "friend-zone" is fucking idiotic to its core. "OH, I was nice and the woman didn't give me the sex that I deserve!!!"

I'm not that fucking guy, and I thank GOD that I'm not.

But it's...it's almost worse, to be like me. Lacking in potency. LACKING in danger. Lacking in something to give.

But that goes right back to my friends being "colleagues." Why they don't confide. Why women don't blush and turn away.

A piece of me is...MISSING. Something that would make me a predator, or a contender, or a true friend.

And I don't know what the FUCK it is.

And if you robbed me of my cleverness and my ability to relate with people, without that thing that I'm missing, without that potency, I'd be alone.

Nobody would come to me at all.

My girlfriend loves me because I'm clever.

My colleagues include me because I'm clever.

I'm a reliable guy. A hard worker. I'd LOVE to be given the responsibility of someone's trust, or someone's sexuality, purely on the merit that I'm kind and reliable.

But the only thing that people consistently want is my wit. That I'm funny.

If that's the one thing people believe in me for, why else am I anything?

According to what my interactions with other people have taught me, the answer is simple. The only thing I have to give is my wit.

...Without that, I'd be alone. Nobody wants what's below the surface, because without my wit, I'm flat. Unassuming. Kind and reliable MAYBE, but nothing to give a shit about.

That's my personal truth. That my wit may be all that I have. That I'm impotent, mild, and flawed. That's my bitter, crushing, horrible truth.

...I'll never know what it's like to live without it, because this is the only life I get.

We need to talk.

Lemme make something clear.

Lately, I've been having a bad time.

My problems aren't special, or crippling, or tragic, sure. But they're MINE. I can't cash them in or trade them for something more glamorous.

Relative to me, they suck. They don't make life unlivable. I have TEN TIMES as much reason to endure than I do to give up and be bitter and lash out.

And I appretiate every friend I have, and every ounce of appreciation I get.

The days I see the bad outweighing the good were many, but I'm not down yet. Because that's what it means to be a man.

To endure. To let those problems bite at you, and knock you down, without lashing out at people who don't deserve it. To draw yourself up and ignore the people who fuck with you for laughs. To cherish every person and moment that lends you strength or makes you happy.

BECAUSE I'M JOHN.

Big John With The Hat. Bad John.

I'm not an extension of my traits, I'M THEIR MASTER.

And how dare I forget the people who DO believe in me? How DARE I write them off?!

They're in my head, every time I think of the things that make me happy. Every stupid joke or tale or witty remark is for THEM. To help them remember that life can be simple. Funny.

So girls can have a male presence in their lives without constantly worrying that I'm trying to get in their pants.

I have true friends who DO think I'm more than jokes and hot air. People who stick by me, even when I'm an emo bitch.

I have a father and mother who cared enough to build me. A pair of brothers who love me. A sidekick with a capture card, and more ideas and endurance and creativity than I can ever credit him for. A girlfriend who gives a real shit, and reminds me that I don't need to face myself alone.

William.

Mayola.

Billy and Mark.

Andrew. Vale. Hunter. Kelsey. The Mafia Guys.

Lucy.

My team-mates.

And a legion of colleagues and friends and teammates and bosses and allies who, even if they don't see me as potent, see me as good enough.

It's because of them that it's easy to find the nerve to see good in myself.

I've got goodwill and endurance and practical wisdom. They may only rival my cleverness, but they're what make me ME.

Being me isn't great, but fuck. I'm the only one who can, y'know?

Eh. This has been exhausting. I got no sleep tonight. I'll probably sleep through my free time.

Thanks for reading.

I would just like to say that I've always been honored by your friendship. You might consider me just a colleague, and I would understand that, we've known each other for merely one and a half years now. But in that time, we've shared some good times, and some not so good times.

We shared some pretty good laughs during Halo Reach multiplayer, when those Elites kept on jumping off of the Spire, and you were reminded of Lemmings. We've had our share of arguments as well, but hopefully we had moved past that and forgiven each other.

Despite the sometimes rude jokes that we say to each other on Xbox nowadays, I always remember that I consider you a very close friend to me.

When I first started out on the original Database with the original Uprising, you were there supporting me as I went. When you started Mettle and Metal, you included Blaine as one of your first characters, and through your clever and artistic ways, did something to the character that I might not have accomplished for many many years; you gave my Spartan a goal.

Originally, I was going to off Blaine at the end of Homecoming, a full cycle kind of story, starts on Reach, dies on Reach. But thanks to you and Mettle and Metal, I made it a goal to make Blaine just like that, to intertwine our canons.

You know Katie, whom I write about in nearly all of my stories now? It was your support, and your guidance, and your mini story that helped push my comfort zone and finally have the nerve to ask her if she liked me. We had dated a good long year after that. Unfortunately, she had to move this last week to a whole other state, and now she's gone forever. But this isn't about me, it's about you. If you hadn't of helped me, I would have been lonely for the last year, and I couldn't tell you what might have been.

You mean so much more to people than you might think, and I'm not just saying this because of the gains that you've given ME, but because you are a charismatic person with some very unique qualities, and while not all the ladies might like these qualities there are people that do.

I am honored to call you my friend, especially because you were the first person that I even told about Katie. I am honored to call you my right hand man, my buddy. You have a shining personality, and for that you are a HERO in my books.

Never change who you are, please.

Your friend,

Morgan.

Honestly, I want you to also know that every man/woman is flawed. But they don't let that get in their way of driving a happy life. I know that despite the constant shit that I get from the people around me because I'm a tad bit overweight, that I don't need to please them. I need to be my own man, and I feel the same should be said for you.

You are a great person, John, and don't let the actions of anyone else make you think differently. Those people can go fuck themselves if the only thing they want out of you is wit. If people don't want to get to know you, or at least put your wit aside and treat you like anyone else, I say fuck 'em.

I am most likely the most ignored person in my household, in my school, and just about everywhere else. But I don't let that get me down, I just remind myself that someone out there truly cares for me, and I ignore the rest of them. I feel you should do the same.

What you think you might be missing from you, has been with you all along. You don't need to be a predatorial man either. Despite what people say, nice guys don't finish last. People always look at the bad sides of things, and they don't understand that the nice guy can always stand back up and try again, like Agent Nine. No matter how badly beaten and broken, the nice guy will always stand up and fight for what he believes in.

I don't know if my words have helped you, or royally pissed you off, or even made you feel worse. I just felt that I needed to be there for you, when I think you really needed someone most. If you ever need something John, please let me know.

I might even be the last person you'd want to talk to, considering how I'm probably one of the guys you refer to that look at your cleverness. But know that I only do it because you are one of the few people that like to share it. I also like to hang around you and the members of the Mafia because you all are a group I can hang out with. You are a great fellow, John, never lose sight in that.

"Friends":

You seem to have a problem that is similar to rich people, except replace money with wit. Now, I don't mean to downplay your problems but... This is what I do when I feel down.

I picture a child dying of starvation somewhere in the world. Could be anywhere. Then I think about my problems.

What do I stress about? Marks, university, getting a high paying job, not posting enough on Database. What do they stress about? Staying alive. Big difference eh?

Makes me feel insignificant and it makes my brain say "grow the fuck up". Now, that's just how I deal with things. I try to see everything in the big picture, because a microbe might seem huge under a microscope but really it's nothing special.

You acknowledged your problems weren't special, which I suppose means you know it could be worse. But these things do affect us, I get it. We all have our ups and downs. I move on by seeing how bad it could be, and with the knowledge that nothing lasts forever so why should my problems.

Maybe it'll work for you. Maybe it won't, hell it might make things worse. I'm no psychologist.

Women:

Now, I'm probably the least qualified to talk here but I'll say something.

I learned something from a homeless guy once.
"Love me for who I am, and I'll love you back. Simple as that."
It makes a lot of sense actually. Why would I want to be with someone who likes me because of a single trait?

If a girl liked be simply because I'm Hispanic, I doubt that would last for long.
If she liked me because of who I am, that will last a lot longer.

Your wit is part of who you are. You could have all the wit in the world, but if you use it to be a total jerk no one is going to like you (except maybe other jerks). So people obviously like the way you use your wit. If that makes sense.

I also firmly believe what you AREN'T helps define you as well. You're not a predator, so I suppose Lucy likes that. I can't speak for her, nor could I ever. I'm a dude.

Look, I live by this motto when it comes to women. "If it happens it happens, if it doesn't it doesn't". I'm satisfied enough with myself to live out life that way. I'm a decent person, and that's all I need out of myself.

That's not an excuse to get fat, or smoke, or do anything that harms me. It's just that why should I care what people want? Since when do people know what they really want?

Maybe (I dunno) you just gotta learn to be happy (or at least satisfied) with yourself and stop worrying about what people want from you.

But I'm only 17, I got a lot to learn and philosophical shit isn't my strong point.