Complexities

My self-analyses are always so shallow, misted over. Everyone I've dated always tells me I have all of these issues, confidence complexes, but I'm ever-blind to them. I'm a racing horse that stares at the finish line, and no one's so far ahead that I can see them through my blinders. But God damn, they're kicking my ass. I recount stories radially, small things. Like I've said, I don't have a single secret. I let my hubris fly. It's this manuever I've done to convince myself that I'm good at lying, this gymnastical sidestep that defies all evidence of damage and exhaustion, unhappiness.

The key is that, when you lie, you have to believe yourself.

Folded down and dried up in the tired olive green chair in the cathouse talking to Amy and Jack about family; Kara about discipline. It's starting to feel like everyone has a complex, frayed ends hidden behind thinning cigarette smoke and scarves pulled across our mouths. It's starting to feel like we're all so jaded at 21. Is it because I'm already losing some of the hair that I used to work so hard each morning to shape? I've lost that perfectionist motivation. I can't remember what it feels like to feel disguisting when I haven't showered for a day. I could go weeks if it meant my skin wouldn't break out.

I wrote once that I'd sit with everyone and know them if I could, but I'm starting to think that I already know each single person on the Earth. At times, I can feel us all breathe in unison, somehow connected through reverberating atoms, pressure build-up in the atmosphere. I'm sighing and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide at an alarming rate, and some shrub in the rainforest will exhale brand new oxygen right back out, into the mouth of the next South American dictator, and I can already feel him, too.

Now, I'm drinking tea with sugar and milk, sweetening sweetening. I'm trying so hard to thicken the evidence, but I'm as transparent as I've ever been. The only difference is that I've gotten better at lying to myself. Everything is just a magic show, an illusion.