Dispenser

I hate being a convenience dispenser.
You know, when people only remember you when they need something from you.
When people know, or would want to know you because of the status you hold or your usefulness to them.

They are there in good times. They are there on their times of need.
But when in bad times I'm alone... and when they are well off I'm unwelcome or just the plan D.. or usually plan E.

I affirm their opinions. I listen and I hear them out.
When I have time I provide for their interests without expecting anything in return.
When I see them contented because of this I feel happy for them and it makes me happy as well.

However, my opinions are shrugged off or are subject to later scrutiny. Because of this
my interests lie with myself and within myself. Talking about these with myself seems to be a cherished activity.
I'd have to feel contented.. or lose what I know about the feeling of happiness.

They seek me out on personal whims and make myself be found.
I seek them out for company and they make themselves scarce.

They walk with me on cobblestone roads. I walk alone on dug up tracks.
And how I wish this wasn't so but here I am walking strong.

Dispensed when needed.
Taken for granted?
Perhaps. Improbably.

In this world full of temporary people, what I'd hope is for someone to infinitely endure it with.