BFF in the Self-service Lane

　
Who's your daddy?
Well I'm my daddy...
And who's your momma?
Well I'm my momma.
And who's your best friend forever?
Well I'm my best friend forever!

Somehow while growing up
I learned that liking yourself too much
(or maybe even a little)
was a bad thing,
A Baddddd thing:
"Oh, he's so conceited"
Or
"He's so full of himself"
And maybe even
"He's so stuck up."
Words no one wanted to hear.
Some kind of social felony.
(and you could get sent away
to a distant island, all by yourself)
A faux pas few came back from.

And so I was counting on you, back then,
My ersatz BFF
To take care of "my self"
Me my mine
To shine a light on my darkness
To make me feel sublime.

And frankly old friend
You didn't do it all that well,
(granted, you didn't likely apply for the job,
a job no one was trained for)
So as years have passed I have tried
To count on myself
To take care of myself
Which, contrary to our careful upbringing
Is OK.
(Oh the joys of having a self that is full.)

And I remind myself that if you like me
It is probably because
You are taking care of yourself
In some important self-serving way.
Well good for you!
(and since your so nice, good for me too!)

So nowadays we can be BFF,
Just in a twisted-back
Off the track
Doesn’t lack
Pick up the slack
Way.

Eh, who's you daddy?