Am I pathetic or is it you?

Inspired and slightly based on a friend of mine.
Dream chasing of a dream catcher and the defeated.

We once made a promise
to never succumb to reality, 
and chase whatever wild dream 
that seemed utterly preposterous.
But here we are again and again, 
as I watch you struggle on with that promise,
under a drunken haze 
to outwit reality by escaping from it,
Did this count as cheating by the way? 
I pondered as I took another delicate sip,
of whatever it was that was most certainly not strong enough. 
I watch you unfold 
as I sat composed across the table. 
Am I pathetic or is it you? 

“Would you laugh at me,
And call me weak?
Now that I am finally seeing a therapist?”
No, I won’t laugh at you, 
because you are long beyond my help
and help is what you need. 
That promise weighs down on the both of us:
Yours from keeping it, 
and mine from guilt. 
I have long lost the battle, 
while you trudge on with a losing one. 
Or is it a losing one, by how I see it,
just because I’ve lost? 

I thought I told you, quite clearly,
that I wouldn’t come to your funeral 
if you died before thirty-five.
But here I am alive without living, 
And you doing neither of the two. 
They told me you went 
by chugging prescription pills with whiskey,
and I had to stop myself from snorting,
as I always thought German beer was your thing. 

“The scariest thing in life,
is to have a dream 
and realise 
one did not have the capability to fulfill it.”
You once told me over a pint,
that this was your greatest fear. 
And I could not tell you,
Sober, tipsy or drunk,
that life itself terrified me. 

And here I stand, 
laundered and well-paid, 
in step and in line. 
Would you laugh at me,
and call me weak?
For having given up so early in the game?
Pathetic or not,
I miss you so, 
my dear friend.

The End

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