Flies and Friends – or How to Spot a Parasite
You’ve got a day off. Finally. No emails, no bosses, no dumb tasks. You lie down. You rest. The sun is pouring down from the sky, but it doesn’t bother you. Something cold in your hand. Silence. Pure bliss
And then you hear it.
You don’t even see it yet, but you already know. That familiar sound. A buzzing. Not just any buzzing – that infuriating, constant kind, loud like a tractor on steroids. A fly is coming.
Not some random one, not the kind that just lands on the window and leaves. No, this one came specifically for you. As if it had a radar tuned into your exhaustion, your relaxation, your moment of peace.
Because that’s when the worst flies show up.
When you finally get a moment to breathe.
You start waving it away. You swat your hand. It flies off, comes back. Hits the window. Circles over you, lands on your shoulder. And you already know – this bitch is on a mission.
They look for shit – but maybe it just noticed you.
Something about you drew it in.
And suddenly, you’re the target.
And then it hits you:
It’s not just a fly.
It’s a metaphor. A symbol. It’s the people you’ve known for years.
The ones who are only around when they want something from you.
They show up when they smell something.
Not shit, like a fly – but money, success, connections, influence, happiness.
You were alone when you were down. When your pockets were empty, your energy gone, no hope left. When you said “I need help” – silence. When you looked for support – no one was there.
But the moment you start climbing back up.
The moment something begins to work out for you.
Suddenly – boom!
– “Hey, what’s up?”
– “Wow, you’ve changed, you look great!”
– “Listen, I’ve got a favor to ask…”
And then it starts pouring in:
– “Can I borrow some money?”
– “Can you give me that guy’s contact?”
– “I saw you got a new job… maybe there’s something for me too?”
– “Does your girlfriend have friends?”
– “Tag me on Insta, yeah?”
A fly in human skin.
And it’s not about not helping anyone.
But help isn’t an obligation, and gratitude shouldn’t be a luxury.
Fake friends don’t know gratitude.
They know strategy. Like a fly – they land where they sense a benefit.
And when you swat them away? They act offended. Like you owed them something.
Like you took away their right to feed off you. And even when you wave your hand once, twice, three times – they come back. Again. Just as stubbornly as that fucking fly buzzing around your head even though you clearly show you don’t want contact.
But you owe nothing.
You don’t owe attention to someone who didn’t give a damn when you truly needed it.
You don’t owe opportunity to someone who couldn’t even give you presence when you were drowning.
You know what you do with flies?
You close the window. Grab a slipper. And strike.
Not out of hate. Out of hygiene. Because sometimes, relationships need cleaning too.
Not every connection is friendship.
Not every acquaintance deserves your energy.
Not every smile means good intentions.
Sometimes it’s worth taking a closer look –
is it a person… or a fly?
Because a parasite never lets go on its own.
You have to cut it off. With your hand. With your words. With a decision.
Because if you don’t – it’ll come back.
Again. And again.
Until you no longer know
if it’s your life, or someone else’s free bar.
Maybe sometimes it’s not the fly that changed.
Maybe you’ve just kept the window open for too long.
