Pretending.
I am not doing this because I want someone to cheer me up. I got brokenhearted last night, and I needed a place to rant.
We wake up, plaster a smile on our faces, and say "hi" to those awake. We pretend we're not sleepy, we pretend we slept well. We even say we did. We pretend.
We exit the bar late at night. We have been drinking. But we pretend we're fine, we pretend we're able to walk in a straigh line. We are freezing cold. We pretend we're okay. We want to smoke but we promised we wouldn't. We pretend we don't care, we laugh it off.
Pretending, acting, lying. It is constant. You lie to others, you lie to yourself. You lie. You pretend. And then you wonder why no-one asks you what's going on, whether you let such few people really close enough to read you through the pretense, through the mask.
But we go on doing it. We go on pretending.
The problem comes when you believe your pretense. When you are so fucking naive as to believe it will all go good. Nah, you don't need that smoke. Tsk, why would you need a jacket? Of course you are fine. He'll come around.
But he didn't come around. He left you. He went in pursuit of his happiness with someone else. But you pretended it would all work out, and it didn't, and now you're hypocritical enough as to cry. And you don't just cry. You weep, you sob loudly, you want to break things. You are heartbroken, you are hurt, and you are angry. Angry at whom? Sometimes at him for choosing her. Sometimes at yourself for not walking away from the beginning.
The rules were clear. But you let yourself hope. You knew the outcome. But you gambled your heart anyway. And now it is gone. Poof! Smoke in the wind. It shattered to pieces, and no glue is powerful enough as to fix it.
He left you, Naty. Stop being such a pussy and get over it. He's not coming back.
But deep down, you hope. You hope he will. And you pretend you're moving on. You pretend it's all good, that it'll pass in no time.
And you sit, waiting, sighing, and sobbing, wishing he would change his mind.
You dream too much, idiot. Why would he? Why would he leave her for you?
We wake up, plaster a smile on our faces, and say "hi" to those awake. We pretend we're not sleepy, we pretend we slept well. We even say we did. We pretend.
We exit the bar late at night. We have been drinking. But we pretend we're fine, we pretend we're able to walk in a straigh line. We are freezing cold. We pretend we're okay. We want to smoke but we promised we wouldn't. We pretend we don't care, we laugh it off.
Pretending, acting, lying. It is constant. You lie to others, you lie to yourself. You lie. You pretend. And then you wonder why no-one asks you what's going on, whether you let such few people really close enough to read you through the pretense, through the mask.
But we go on doing it. We go on pretending.
The problem comes when you believe your pretense. When you are so fucking naive as to believe it will all go good. Nah, you don't need that smoke. Tsk, why would you need a jacket? Of course you are fine. He'll come around.
But he didn't come around. He left you. He went in pursuit of his happiness with someone else. But you pretended it would all work out, and it didn't, and now you're hypocritical enough as to cry. And you don't just cry. You weep, you sob loudly, you want to break things. You are heartbroken, you are hurt, and you are angry. Angry at whom? Sometimes at him for choosing her. Sometimes at yourself for not walking away from the beginning.
The rules were clear. But you let yourself hope. You knew the outcome. But you gambled your heart anyway. And now it is gone. Poof! Smoke in the wind. It shattered to pieces, and no glue is powerful enough as to fix it.
He left you, Naty. Stop being such a pussy and get over it. He's not coming back.
But deep down, you hope. You hope he will. And you pretend you're moving on. You pretend it's all good, that it'll pass in no time.
And you sit, waiting, sighing, and sobbing, wishing he would change his mind.
You dream too much, idiot. Why would he? Why would he leave her for you?