Half my life I've lived a lie. That’s fourteen years.
Master of disguise. Perfecter of the smile. Expert at shifting the conversation away. Masquerader of interest in life. Force the laughter, crinkle the eyes, flash the teeth, and make sure the dimples show.
It became instinctual, but these actions have lacked authenticity.
It became instinctual, but these actions have lacked authenticity.
Is it getting better? Or have I only improved my ability to repeatedly
shove the darkness to the back of my mind?
Fourteen years. Fourteen is far too many.
Take the candy and swallow it down. Wait for it...
Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned. But I don’t want to be
saved.
Shhhhh.
Shhhhh.
"Tragedy," they'll say.
"No," the winds whisper, "Only release."
