3:33 p.m. | 2005-04-16
Steps One and Two
I remember writing about not being anything; about how people hate their lives simply because they haven't lived them to the fullest or done everything the could have and wanted to.
They miss the excitement of new things and the the way life is unpredictable. It's the entire reason we escape into fantasy; books, movies, television, lies.
I stopped telling anyone what was going on a long time ago. I started putting out there, instead, words that weren't true, theories that were false, and things I wanted to believe in. My whole world was always drama and the second I lost interest I just created more.
I stopped talking to my best friends about what I really felt and started talking more about what I wish I felt, only I didn't make the tense change for them. I live in this world of fantasy where I'm doing what I want to do and people are seeing me that way. I'm running around twenty-four seven just trying to keep all the little tiles of lies I've put there in their places. And at a certain point I'm left dramatically and artistically sitting on the floor just staring at this marvel around me.
Did I do this? Did I choose to do this? What about this lie, did I want to tell that one? Did I cringe as I said it? Did I scoff you because you believed it? The dance I ran around all of the lies, making sure they never overlapped and always fit, did I take pride in that?
I bought these table mats the other day. They're olive green. I also bought napkins that are a red flower pattern on a cream background. They're nice.
