Good People

You know people like this. Or you are like this. You probably know which it is.

Some people won’t believe this.
They will insist that the good are really weak,
And that nobody is really good.
Or that nothing really matters
Because there is no God.

And they aren’t wrong.
Not in their own heads.

But the inside of their own heads
is all the reality they can experience.
Desperate to feel something,
Extremes are all that matter.

And to be wrong… to be wrong about anything
is a pain that can’t be borne.
Because their fragile house of twigs and gauze,
Held together entirely by lies,
Would come undone, and shatter to pieces
Should they ever accept a wrongness in themselves.

But there is good.
And there are good people.

People who will care for the things you care about,
Who make the music you love.
Who will make that special dish, just because you like it.
Who make sure you are warm on that late night ride.
Who want you to be the person you barely imagine you should be.
Who care about your comfort just because it’s you.

People who have your back, and are happy to have you at theirs.

Can you imagine yourself being such a person? Really?

No. No. You can’t afford that.
And so…

Every good act must be belittled, and made nothing of.
And the good must be made fools of, for every kindness.
And thus devalued, you owe nothing in return.

Yet, you want to be stopped.
To be crushed and held,
To be raped and all but murdered.
And you think it is for thrills.

But it is just what you believe you deserve.

Sadly, it is only the good people who will give you better.

And there are no good people.

Los Angeles, 26 October, 2013