Saturday, March 10, 2012


I lie every day. To myself. To others. Like there never is a moment in life when I do not feel like every action of mine is calculated and planned out, insincere, to impress others, to say I like spending time with them, to make them think of me in a certain way, to avoid a particular stereotype, to maintain a distance between me and others. It goes on and on.

I even wonder if my thoughts are real or if thinking about how to think and how I just thought and what I should think next actually strips away the authenticity of the whole process. The thoughts that run through my mind feel so cultured sometimes, I suspect I can't even let my hair down to just think messily in my head with no need for pretense. Feeling like you are your own pretend, there really is not much to turn to to truly believe its sincerity.

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