Everybody does stupid things.
Not everybody does recklessly irresponsible things that could have killed someone. Not everyone then goes and brags about it. I do stupid things, too. I have yet to do something so stupidly lax that I could have seriously harmed someone, and then gone bragging about it.
It's not lonely up here, no. Know why? I'm not the only one who thinks your stunt was a stupid-ass idea. You have only yourself to blame for this mess, Benjamin. I'm not being the "responsible" one for you any more. I'm through with reminding you time and time again to study, knowing full well you'd dog on yourself for not getting top marks. I'm through with having to set limits for you, tell you what behaviour is and is not acceptable. It's a role I never should have taken on to begin with.
I'm not better than anyone, that's true, and you know I personally consider myself a pretty horrid person. But tell me, are you enjoying being reckless all by yourself there? Are you okay with the potential consequences of your actions? Let's list it here. Worst case scenario, you'd have gotten a child killed, seeing as how they're substantially smaller than us and less able to hold even the standard drink or less that's in jello shots. Best case scenario, they'd be horribly sick for hours. Congratu-fucking-lations, you caused a child harm. You know what alcohol is, it's fucking poison, the effects it has on the human body is from being poisoned, and you thought it was a good idea to teach a child what inebriation was without their knowledge or consent? Are you fucking retarded?
Seems everytime I try, you find something to bring me down. Something that can temporarily destroy me. And you use it to the best of your ability.
Um, reminding you of how naïve and bloody thick you were being isn't bringing you down. It's telling you what you should have known all along. Had you the willingness or ability to temper your own actions to minimise the harm you cause, I wouldn't have need to "temporarily destroy [you]". Had you half an ounce of responsibility, I wouldn't need to do that at all. You brought my wrath, and by proxy, the wrath of a shit-ton of confused and irate parents, upon yourself.
But you don't care any more. I do. I've always cared.
You cared so much that you'd enforce your opinion and presence on me, even when it was unwanted? You'd choose to make yourself a recluse, then complain that I did not? Cared so much that you'd denigrate our mothers, who gave us life (and yours, who gave you nearly everything else), and Brian, who gave you assistance whenever you needed it, because I wouldn't listen to your version of reason? If that's "caring", then I want none of it.
When you called and said you took pills while I was in another country, i thought I would never see you again. Nothing has scared me more.
It was floor-cleaner, and you called me. If you must include an anecdote, at least get the details straight.
When I caught the early bus without you, because I was hanging with Richard. You took the pills and I had an ambulance called for you. When you cancelled that ambulance, I was terrified.
I didn't want an ambulance called for me. I was perfectly happy to wallow. If I recall, it was your mother that called the ambulance, not you. And don't be phrasing it like it was your fault, you know very well it wasn't.
In either case, don't be saying it like you were even partially responsible for my getting well. I pulled myself out of each rut, by myself: the first time, because I was at Stepping Stones, and it was do or die; and the second, because I'd managed to cobble something resembling myself back from everything that I destroyed. Let me be perfectly clear, Ben: telling me what I wanted to hear then, and again with Brian, and many things I didn't want to hear, is not helpful to either my opinion of you, or to my recovery rate.
And hey, guess what? With your absence, I have recovered. Whether this be just a mere coincidence in events, or whether it be because I actually (gasp) did better without your "help", I don't know. But oh look, I'm finally in a position in life where I am stable and happy. Where I am not merely putting on a façade to please you or the masses. And what do you do? Instead of being happy for me, you rag on me for daring to be happy without you. For daring to have friends I'd rather spend time with, than you. For, of all things, something I should have been able to have while I was with you, both as a partner and as a friend, but could not for fear of leaving you alone. You dug yourself a pit of solitary. You can dig yourself back out. Lord knows every warning, every instruction I've ever thrown at you for making things better has gone completely AWOL.
I've grown awfully weary, Benjamin, of playing these stupid games with you. Of your beliefs that things are just going to go back to normal, that we're going to be bestest buddies again, when I've got other friends that appear to value my opinion enough to actually listen to what I want and respect that. Of having to continually be your moral compass, your motivation for getting work done, and when you ignored everything I said and bashed yourself for it, of being the one to boost you back up. Yeah, I can't do that any more, and I can't see why I should need to. The survival of this relationship, as of late, has become increasingly dependent on my ability to ignore the stupid shit you do.
You know what? I don't care any more. I cared when you were failing, I cared when you were flagging, but now that you've endangered lives and violated respect and trust? I see no reason to carry on this friendship with you. When you've matured some, when you can make an argument without "I've done this for you in the past, and you've done fuck all for me", remember that I was there and tried to make you take some goddamned responsibility for yourself and grow the fuck up, and you chose to ignore me, Brian, Adam, and everyone else. You dug yourself into this pit, and you can dig yourself out of it.