Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lies. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Stupid...


You know how we say, 'It is too good to be true?' How when something so wonderful happens that we can't help but thank our stars and feel so overwhelmed that we have to utter with joy: Oh, you are too good to be true!

But do you know what the actual, original phrase is? It's, "If it's too good to be true, then it probably is." I don't know why we take out the last half of the quote. We choose to focus on the half truth and not face the reality.
Like she did.
Perhaps, she didn't get the memo - she didn't realize that when someone is too good to be true, he probably isn't. she is a stupid girl who believed it when he said he loved her. She was the stupid girl who didn't see the heinousness behind those cute eyes she adored. She gave in, she fell hard, and was trapped in his spell that she couldn't look beyond him. She couldn't see what he was doing to her. She couldn't decipher his plan. She couldn't see how he would use the doll that she was and then throw her out in search of another prettier one. Perhaps because he liked blond dolls and she is dark haired. Perhaps because it was all a game for him - her emotions, her life, was nothing but a game to boast in front of others. Perhaps he thought that somehow he would be more of a man if he could conquer her. Perhaps because he always thought she was stupid while telling her how smart he was. Perhaps, because she really is stupid.

If it is too good to be true, dear readers, it really is. Always, always remember that.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Lying to Myself..


Some things I know I have lied to myself – and this is one of them.

After swearing to destroy all of her things, I know I haven’t really discarded all ... somewhere hidden in an album lie, now yellowing photographs - still beautiful with a hint of those times – in an academic file alongside my notes – I am sure - lies buried - a birthday card – and amongst the modest treasures of my wallet is a guitar pick – that still fancies her touch. ..

Masked cleverly in my words, somewhere lie - subtle references - to memories only one reader can relate...... In empty corridors of a dilapidated structure, there still can be heard - echoes of her laughter and although, now abandoned – there still flows a river - now mourning with salted water.

In the waking hours of some nights, the bed still longs her warmth. And the still air – now devoid of her scent – feels like a vacuum mocking my heart.

On some things I know, I have lied to myself and this is one of them ...... Oh! How I wish there were words that could describe – How much I miss her on some days ....