a word. a thought. a song. a lady.

Sometimes I realize that despite all I’ve done, and all I do, I’m still the Fat Friend, or the Funny Friend, or the enabler, or the helper. The tag-along. The one who helps other people be more themselves. The perennial wingman.

There’s nothing wrong with being fat or funny or enabling or helping or tagging along. In fact there’s a lot right with it.

But it feels lonely, being the sidekick all the time. Being the outsider, on the fringe of every group, on the edge of other people’s conversations. An accessory to all kinds of relationships going on around me.

Sometimes I feel like a plot device in other people’s lives.