This is me at it's deepest roots and at my most inner core. This is me, and I bet it's some of you too.
This is easily the most personal piece of writing I've ever done.
Thank you for reading.
The Man I Envy
You, sir, I envy. With the way you walk. Stalk your pray, and kill. The way you hunt, I envy. The way you move, floating. Wavering and buzzing and flitting from shadow to shadow. They way you stand, how I stand, but not. Better. That, I envy. How you can stand there and change the world with a snap of your fingers and defend it with a slap on Hate. Your confidence, it manifests itself upon you. Glowing. Golden. Grabbing their attention, their trust. Your poise, your courage, all that defines you.
You, sir, I envy. With the way you can change the mind of another man who stands not less than two doors down and who doesn't move, doesn't see the true meaning behind Life and Love and Fate. The man who stands still and is changed by you, he is like me. I envy the way you can spit words, your teeth are bullets – they are your weapons – and your tongue, the safety. Flip it off and take the shot, drop him down 'til he hits the ground.
You, sir, I envy. And the way it all just comes so easily to you: the words, the pain, the glow, the rain that drops from your eyes that no one sees. You cry and bounce back. Retrack. Take the shot again. How you don't let the chain slow your game, I don't know. I can't tell. But it makes me wonder how to be free from this hell inside. Inside me, so inside you too – but buried beneath and sheathed in your left-hand pocket, I saw it – the world. How to overcome? I ask myself everyday, no nine-to-five and hey – I'm still a kid so let it show. I know there's nothing to it so let me go, let me grow so slow I won't even know what killed the flow, what stopped the show.
You, sir, I envy. With your commonman footsteps and commonplace habits, common little house in your common busy town and you're happy. I see that you're happy, with what you have, you're happy. You tell me the air breathes when I breathe and I won't remember all that you've done for me and I wonder if God will have mercy when he comes down this December – but wait. What's this you speak of? Of which I know that you know that you don't quite know, but inside – inside that damn little head of mine – I know that there's no such thing. This is who I am, so go cry, go sing. Go fly, go sting – and walk on.
You, sir, I envy. When I look at you I wonder why I can't be more like you, you're strong, independent and no more games – life's no cakewalk so you make up names. And there I go, I let another one drop, so tell me this is my photo-op 'cause I'm here, desk-pop and my fingers can't stop. I'm ready. Take a breath, I'm ready. Cause here it goes again, here it comes again.
You, sir, I envy. I see you exist in front of me: two-D with the same bad knee. I see you look me in the eye only when I look you in the eye and I wonder why I can't be more like you. I can't be more like you.
You, sir, I envy. There's no mirror for you to look inside and wonder why you can't be more like what you see, who you see in there – more like yourself. I'm weak, I let my eyes cover my cheeks and I'll walk on, forget all that gets gone, and don my non-brawn – that is who I am.
You, sir, I envy. With the way you change yourself. And the way I could never do the same damn thing.