I don't know what it is, but I want to be his friend. I don't know if it's because he so aptly portrays the struggling writer (even though I want to hate him when he bangs out a novel in a weekend) or the undying love he has for his daughter and his baby momma and his relationship to both, I can overlook the rest on the basis of just those things. Because really, that's what we all do with many relationships in our lives, people don't meet our every expectation and I have found myself way too many times looking the other way when lied to my face and still loving friends through their indiscretions no matter how much I hate them.
It's gotten me thinking about what others may over look about me, but I pick myself apart enough. I'm aware of my flaws, I just have to stop pretending other people aren't. The difference between Hank and I is that although we're both aware of our own bullshit, he's unapologetic about it. He does what he feels, when he feels it, deals (or doesn't deal) with it later. But he wears them like a badge on his chest and his heart is rolled up in his sleeve.
So here they are, I care too much about what you think, I'm so self-absorbed that I've become a flake, I say I want to live this big, full life, but I continually find myself ignoring my phone and opting for a night on the couch with my cat, I seek approval from anyone and everyone, my expectations of you are way too high, I sometimes say I'm a writer, but I rarely write, I feel like you really want my opinion and I'll give it to you anyway, every day I wake up and say I'm going to be better and I go to bed mad at myself for lying again.
So, there you have it, call me on it. I promise I'm working on it, but, shit, old habits die hard. I just might not apologize about it anymore, right, Hank?
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