Stasis

This is one of those weekends where I feel like I should just be able to lie down and sleep the days away as if they were nothing more than a lucid moment. As a "young guy," some of the expectations of me are almost downright insulting. I avoid the bars. I avoid the women this town has to offer. That would be suicide, because all I'd have to do is open my mouth and the whole town would hear it.

Is it possible for anyone to live like this? Yes, I would think that it is. It isn't easy, coming from a city as a relative nobody, and arriving into a town under almost celebrity-like status. The only difference between myself and my evil twin (the ever illustrious, Mr. Gyllenhaal), is the fact that he is universally loved and adored, while I am almost universally treated with contempt or apprehension. To arrive on someone's doorstep, they never quite know how to receive me, whether I come to inquire about good news, or whether I come to interrogate them about dark secrets that they wish for no-one to know besides themselves. It's a mystery that they are afraid to endure, let alone ask about.

All I can say is... what ever did I do to end up here? I mean it. All other jobs in the world that are treated with such... venom, are balmed by the soothing remedy of cash, and lots of it. In this field, however, I receive no solace from any side. At all angles are there teeth; gnashing. Hoping that I will misstep so that they can tear into my vulnerable flanks. It's any wonder, how I've yet avoided serious inflammation in this community. I've been told that my preponderance towards the side of goodness and justice has spared me a lot of ill will in this town, but I know from previous experience that being a good person means precisely nil in the real world, because instant gains and the gratification of being right are just too tempting a nugget to pass up, whatever momentary cost one must pay, or innocent soul be hurt, to get it.

On that note, many people in this community have been good to me, and more than that, some complete strangers have actually baffled me with their decency, and I daresay amiability towards me. As if all I really am is a young guy trying to do his job (imagine the thought!). To them, I will always hold fond memories, no matter where I am. It's a small bit of hope to cling to, I guess; a bit like a candy in my pocket. I will always know it's there, but I know I best cherish it and save it for when I have a particularly mung taste in my mouth.

On that note, friends, I should probably retire for the night. Take care.