it is on rare occasions that I seek you out
to tell you about my life now and to show you how wonderful everything is.
you see, I have become the kind of man
that would visit you when I am in a position to brag,
because it is only on rare occasions
that my life is going so great.

and yet, as I am relating to you the exaggerations of my accomplishments,
your eyes tear into me,
causing my heart to reveal my words – to tell the truth to you,

and then to understand: you break me now to feel like an amateur of my life –
to cause me to admit I still drink, and to make excuses and reasons for that;
and then to confess
that I have been living in two of the darkest years of my life;
and to be made clear that your past conversations of: “where did he go to,
where has he been?” could be justified and answered tonight by me.

yes, I wanted to show you with my words who I am now and what I have achieved.
yet all we have done this time is help me remember
these things about myself again.

my mentor you are:
you understand me, my will, my humble beginnings and my mind.
and even now, in this room of your temperate light,
as I have been telling you about all I have learned outside,
I have learned something about myself, inside,
from you, again.

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