The Parasite | Eminem

05

"I'm sleeping on the couch"
Dropping my duffel bag down on the small brown couch, I come to the conclusion that I'm gonna sleep like shit.
Yep.
Not having the money for two separate hotels rooms is a real pain in the ass.
That being said, I don't care too much.
My meds will knock me out regardless, I might wake up with a kink in my neck.
But like I said, comfort shouldn't be guaranteed.

"You can always sleep wit' me, we can put a pillow in the middle" Marshall suddenly suggests, voice light and well-meaning.
Hah.
Cute.

"I told you to keep an eye on my daughter, not flirt with her" Paul's on his case already.
I knew I wouldn't have to say anything.

Anyways.
I ignore the logistics.
"I'm gonna go get a tea downstairs"
Code for, I need to get the fuck away from these two.

"Go with her" oh fuck off.
It's like I'm on fucking probation.

"I don't need to keep your daughter in check, she's really not that bad."
Yeah.
Really.
I'm not all that bad.
Yes, I switched a stock brokerage's projector from a presentation on their earnings to the CEO's sex tape.
Not my fault the guy's a fucking lunatic.
Keep your sex tape at home.
I shouldn't have been able to find it so easily.
At least lock your desk drawer.
But hey. I'm not that bad.

"Seriously, I'm not a goddamn menace."
Right.
I'm the world's endless stream of trash.
Not a menace.
Haven't I referred to myself as a menace before?
Doesn't matter.
Words are words.
They loose meaning after a while.

"Please, just go with her" fuck you Paul.

"Your daughter's a real pain in my ass" Marshall grunts, shoving his hands into the pockets of his bright yellow jumpsuit.
He's a pain in my ass.
I shouldn't be seen with a dude dressing like him.

"Hey, I'm here to support you bud, you think I don't got better things to do? Show some camaraderie" I spit.
We all die regardless.
Your life will expire and the universe won't pay you any special respect for being high functioning.
So am I talking out of ass?
Yeah.

I grab my notebook and a ballpoint pen.
When you've got a book or notepad with you while you do regular things, people think you're cooler than them.
They think you've got awesome time management skills.
They think you're an intellectual.
Well.
I'm here to tell you I'm none of these things.
Don't idolize me.
Sure I might be an intellectual in the definition sense, but I'm not any more special than anyone around me.

"Aight. Fuck off" pursing his lips, he follows me through the door and down the hallway.

"I don't understand why your dad's gotta be on your case all the time"
Pressing the elevator button - down please.
Open the doors.
Step inside.
Isolation.

"Me neither."
It's a blatant lie, obviously.
But lying is fun some times.
I get to play a silly little victim.

"Why do you let him boss you around?"
Cause once you cross a certain line, you don't ever stop crossing it.
I've already done so much, I need at least a little restraint.

"I don't, honestly. I enjoy being around him, I just let him think that he's got an obedient child."
Not a full lie.
He doesn't really see me as obedient, but he believes that when he tells me not to do something, that I listen to him.
Of course, I don't. But whatever helps him sleep at night.
I'm awake, off indulging in some scam or ruining someone's reputation.

"I don't understand why you don't just pretend to be nicer around him so he gets off your case"
I've thought of it.
I ultimately decided against it.
I see my reflection in the metal doors.
I'm a distorted image, a barely fathomable picture.