The Game of Pretending

When I don’t permit myself to think, I’m fine. I even believe I’m in love with life. But once I stop and listen and rummage through the chaos of my soul, I always come out dejected.

It seems like all my strength seep out of me. I’m left weak. I feel awful. Useless. Empty.

Maybe I’m not as brave as I initially believe. I’m a great pretender.

I pretend I’m okay. I pretend everything around me is nice and dandy. I pretend tomorrow will be better than yesterday. I pretend I don’t care. I pretend that I could be nothing and still live because you have my back.

I pretend that problems are just a state of one’s mind, and that there’s a blurred line between being happy and being lonely.

I pretend that I have infinite days in this world. So I put off doing all the important things until it’s too late.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

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