The Lies We Tell Ourselves
That was the story I continued to tell over and over until I even still convinced myself it was still a truth. The worst times were at family events or gatherings with infrequently seen friends. Those used to be some of my favourite moments for the sole purpose of homing in on my forthcoming plans out loud rather than just in my head. But now? In those kinds of situations, it felt like I was a disappointment.
Eyes glazed, head down in contempt, my responses were well-rehearsed or blatantly vague. Their stares drilling through my skull, mind numbing glares, as I felt the construct of who I was vanished and in this sole moment, I had to prove who I was. Like everything I had built was scattered round and they watched me scramble to hold up the pieces with pride and say, “I’m still okay and have it made”. Their eyes were only filled with care.