The Faces Remain the Same

Year after year it's the same fucking story from the same fucking types of people who think they're the most original thinkers on the face of this whole boring fucking planet. Guys I knew in high school are reincarnated about every five years into the visage of a brand new asshole. Todd and Ben could be the same person. Each one admired me for some fucking reason I couldn't fathom. Each one had some kind of bizarre man crush and wanted to hang out with me and be my little apostle. And each one became disillusioned with me after I failed to maintain their illusion of my coolness. Each one treated me like the wise old monk they wanted to be just like. Then later, each one treated me as though I had failed to live up to their ridiculous expectations. Maybe I had a mood swing or failed to praise them or God forbid made them feel like they weren't part of my secret inner world for two seconds because I had an all too human reaction.

I run into the blabbermouth over and over again, the icon (he to whom attention must be paid), the succubus (the dreaded soul-sucking vampire bitch), the in your face homosexual who insists that I must hear about his bullshit or prove myself less than enlightened. I think the downside to being immortal would be running into these people again and again yet each time you do, the new version thinks that he or she is a true original.