Your Own Worst Enemy

Your own worst enemy

- Song: They Might Be Giants: Your own worst enemy

He found himself more and more in these dimly lit rooms, almost like they where his only escape. In fact they were... but how could he admit that? How could he allow himself to acknowledge that he had sunk to that level of weakness?

They had expected so much of him when he was young, said that he was so full of promise. If only they could see him now, if only they could see him sit there and drown the remainder of that "promise" with stale alcohol. He was glad that they couldn't see him.

Swirling around the pale liquid in his glass he let his mind wander... not that he had much control over when it wandered anymore. When had this happened to him? He couldn't remember... Had it been a steady drift, or one sudden drop? Why couldn't he remember when it happened? The past had made so much more sense. But when had he lost his place in life? When he was younger everything had fit together like a clean-cut puzzle, but now there were large chunks of cardboard scattered in the wind.

He had had a best friend... two of them if he was remembering it right. But he really had no right to trust his own mind. And then there had been his enemy. Yes, he missed having that clear-cut enemy more that anything. Anyone would be his friend if he wanted it... but who was there to be him nemesis? Now he had no idea who or what was against him, maybe everything. But back then it had been so clean and simple, his friends, his enemies and the crowd that surrounded. They had been completely distinct for one another. What ever happened to that?

Yes, as strange as it sounded, he missed his enemy more than anything. Not that he really viewed him as an enemy. Sure, at one point he had. When he was even more of a child he could think of nothing worse than that boy... but later? He wasn't sure what had happened. Like so many things in his life it made no sense. Though he had to admit that it made more sense than anything in his present life did. Could you even really call it a life? Maybe it would be truer to call it a mere existence. Once again, he couldn't be sure

Placing the glass back down on the dirty bar he buried his face in his hands, sticky with beer and sweat. What had happened to his enemy? Maybe if he forced his mind to remember... yes, he could almost see something.

He could see the boy that some called his alter ego. The boy he spent five years of his life hating... he had meant to continue hating him, but something had happened. If only he could remember what

The sixth year he would have hated the boy; he threw away five perfectly good years of grudge holding. He no longer loathed the sight of him. Sometimes he might have even... enjoyed it? No, how could he enjoy the company of his long time foe? Maybe it hadn't been as clear-cut as he liked to believe... more clear than this though.

The boy had walked into his room... how did he know where his room was? Why was he there? He knew he was hated, or that he was supposed to be hated. Five years of avoiding him, flushed down the drain. He tried to go on being disgusted with his very presence, but he just couldn't bring himself to. He had pretended that he wasn't in bed, he had screamed and yelled for the boy to leave him the hell alone... O how he clung now to that memory. He missed having that. He missed all those fleeting moments he could share with the only thing that was ever really his... his very own enemy.

It's your own worst enemy

Ringing the bell on the door

And the person inside says nobody's home

So your own worst enemy peeks inside

And sees you softly weeping

as some music fills the room

And the song they play

Is that guy with the messed up face

Going "Precious and few are the moments that you

And your own worst enemy share"

The tender came again and filled the empty glass, already gathering filth from the air. If only they could see him drown his potential... wouldn't they just love that? Or would they hate it? Would they hate him for ruining all the dreams they had for him? He could hate them back. He had no obligation to live up to their standards! If he wanted to sit at a bar for the rest of his life, he would damn well do it! Who were they to expect anything of him? What right had they to say he should make something of himself?

No... they had no right.

As his vision became more and more fogged, his memory got all that much clearer. He could see his enemy. It was almost funny to call him that now. Five long years of wasted hatred. If only he could have kept going, maybe he wouldn't have ended up like this. Yes, blame his enemy, better to blame his enemy than himself. But he hadn't had an enemy to blame for a long, long time. though his mind was so diluted with alcohol maybe he could just make himself believe... No, he couldn't alter the memory of the only thing that had ever really been his, His very own enemy.

His friends hadn't belonged to him, not even in his youth. They belonged to each other. In youth that had followed him, he had been their leader, hadn't he? But he couldn't trust his memory of them. He was almost positive they had belonged to one another... but who was he to say?

His glass filled again, and he went to it again. It was better to not remember anything. He had gone so long without reliving his past. six long years of silence, only to have his brain speak up now? It was a little late.

If only his enemy was here now, if only all those people that held such high hopes for him could sit and watch him now. Wouldn't they enjoy watching his downward spiral? No, they would hate it, and he knew it. They might try to drag him back up, and where was the fun in that? If he wanted to drown in booze and self pity they had no right to stop him.

But if only they had all been there, because maybe if they were with him still he wouldn't have ended up like this.

It's a shame he didn't just look over his shoulder, because they were all there the whole time.

Full bottle in front of me

Time to roll up my sleeves

And get to work

And after many glasses of "work"

I get paid

In the brain

And the song they play

Is that guy with the messed up face

Going "Precious and few are the moments that you

And your own worst enemy share"

And the song they play