The third person
Standing completely alone in a busy public place has become my favorite activity. Sitting inside the chamber of my own mind...where everyone lives their life whether they admit to it or not...and just taking in the one thing you can't learn in books, human nature. The way she walks with a smile on her face but is dying, if not completely dead on the inside, the smile her decorated grave so that people forget the fact that beneath it is a rotting corpse. the way he struggles not to touch her every second because he knows that she might get mad...she might stop talking to him or refuse to be his friend because he wants more. and she's right, he does want more, and he's dying now too because he knows that he can't have more, she'll never want it. but he pretends to be happy just being in her prescense when every moment that he is pretending to be happy with friendship is just a ploy, a not so subtle attempt to get her to fall for him, and it's torture.
Over there, there's a guy who's pretending he's smart because she told him she likes smart guys. She's pretending to be dumb because being dumb is what got him to like her in the first place. Every day they go home with each other and do things that five minutes later they like to pretend didnt happen, and then they do the same thing the next day, and every day they regret the day they have just lived until they start dreading the next day, but the next day never comes it's always the next day and they always dread it. just like yesterday never really happened, it's always in the rear view mirror, always something to regret, never something to live because it's already done. They can't go back because they're always stuck in the present.
Last night he had a dream that they were lovers and it made him the happiest man in the world...last night she had a dream they were lovers and it ruined everything and the dream made her cry. the premonitions that their dreams held keep each others from coming true, but they'll never understand why.
They're all pretending, everything, everyone, every thought, every sight, every feeling...they're all fake, they're all pretend. Every decision is predetermined by our minds, nothing is spontaneous. As for me...what am i pretending, i'm pretending i dont exist in this situation, that i'm a camera taking all of this in, that i'm immune to these falsehoods. I'm not...i'm pretending just as much as anyone, my secrets are untold, i see things through tinted glasses just as much as anyone else...
How do i know this...
Across the way there is someone making up a story of what is going on in my life right now...
E.W.
Over there, there's a guy who's pretending he's smart because she told him she likes smart guys. She's pretending to be dumb because being dumb is what got him to like her in the first place. Every day they go home with each other and do things that five minutes later they like to pretend didnt happen, and then they do the same thing the next day, and every day they regret the day they have just lived until they start dreading the next day, but the next day never comes it's always the next day and they always dread it. just like yesterday never really happened, it's always in the rear view mirror, always something to regret, never something to live because it's already done. They can't go back because they're always stuck in the present.
Last night he had a dream that they were lovers and it made him the happiest man in the world...last night she had a dream they were lovers and it ruined everything and the dream made her cry. the premonitions that their dreams held keep each others from coming true, but they'll never understand why.
They're all pretending, everything, everyone, every thought, every sight, every feeling...they're all fake, they're all pretend. Every decision is predetermined by our minds, nothing is spontaneous. As for me...what am i pretending, i'm pretending i dont exist in this situation, that i'm a camera taking all of this in, that i'm immune to these falsehoods. I'm not...i'm pretending just as much as anyone, my secrets are untold, i see things through tinted glasses just as much as anyone else...
How do i know this...
Across the way there is someone making up a story of what is going on in my life right now...
E.W.