Nostalgic Keeto
Duck_733Is it fake to say so often “/hugs” when IRL I hurt too much to be hugged often? Is it fake to be so happy and bouncy when I feel like it? But also have stories of mischief, and grief, and sometimes even deceit in a misguided desire to protect you?
Is it fake to be happy and sad by turns? Because IRL no one is one thing all the time? And happiness isn’t a state to achieve like a video game level, but little snippets of time to fight for?
Am I fake every time I reassure someone with a lie?It’s rarely true at the time, but I know it will be fact soon enough. Does that make me two-faced?I don’t know.
Is it two-faced to tell the truth after years, years, of lying and suffering for you? I don’t know. Sometimes I wish I knew. But IRL I know that life isn’t like your video games, all black and white or the lies you always tell with yourself as the one who comes out clean.
I tell the truth about most everything but how I’m doing. That I lie about IRL a lot. No one believes me, but I do it anyway. Sometimes I lie about it online too. I doubt folks believe me either.
You see me as more deceitful. And I wonder if IRL you don’t know what’s real anymore. That you’ve been lying for so long all you know are your lies and have forgotten everything else.
- The people who love(d) you.
- The reasons you started lying in the first place.
- The things you used to fight for.
- The things you used to actually care about.
IRL you tell people you’re fine too. They believe you because even though I told them the truth it’s less painful to believe the lie.
IRL you lied to everyone.
IRL you cheated on your boyfriend with three different guys I know about for damn sure.
IRL you got me to lie for you. Again. And again.
IRL I did much to my shame
IRL you valued your world of lies over me, over anyone, but yourself
IRL you physically injured me to the point I went from disabled to crippled.
IRL you kept driving when I said I needed to go back or to the emergency room.
IRL All you cared about was preserving your lie of innocence.
IRL months later you told me just that.
IRL At the time I told you I would forgive you if you’d get me some ice for my leg. Please! anything!IRL at the time i didn’t care if it was a lie. (It was) I needed the emergency room. I’d have said anything for the pathetic amount of help you did give.
IRL I tried to forgive you five times of second chances less than two years.
IRL I thought I had managed it
IRL while I was suicidal every day from pain from what you did ….you were telling someone you were a race car driver. You were drinking away money from god knows where. You were cheating on your man again. Repeating that same mistake. You were dining at fine restaurants and traveling the country to places I’ll never get to visit because of you. You were up all night playing video games and sleeping all day. You were complaining about how unfair life was all the while.
IRL I tried again and again to trust you like I did before.
IRL I don’t believe a word you say anymore.
Because IRL on your very last second-chance you went back on Meth breaking the last of my trust.
So yes. I told your man that you weren’t with me when you’d told everyone you were for a week. I didn’t lie, I told him you ran off with a guy you knew face to face for that week… because you did and that’s the beginning of a horror movie.
You used the backlash you damn well deserved as an excuse to relapse.
Meth? Last trust gone. Last hope gone. I told your mama what she’d be in for later because I didn’t want her going in blind like you hit me with back in the day. Because I’m not going on another fucking meth spiral trying to keep you alive long enough for you to come to your senses.
You think I should be begging forgiveness?IRL I don’t think I’m the one who’s fake.
Sometimes I do lie. But I would never treat another living creature the way you’ve treated me… then say “You know, I’d take a bullet for you.”
You wouldn’t even get crutches.
I don’t think I even bothered asking you for help the next day after that point. But you did ask something of me… leave the room/only seating I could access…. so you could talk on the phone.
Then you stared at me shocked when you found me on the ground “You ok?” You asked.
“No.”
… Does anyone believe me?
