"I'm not a fake person"- my drabble read aloud on my youtube channel by avsongbird

On Being Lonely- a drabble from my blog read audiobook style on my youtube channel

I'm not a fake person

               I'm not a fake person. I never have been. And I've always despised fake people, or the thought of being fake. Faking smiles, faking laughter, pretending to be or to feel or to think any other way than the way you really are.

               It isn't me, and it never has been.

               I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing than having to pretend to be anything other than what or who I am for the sake of anything. Most especially for the sake of appearance or acceptance.

               We shouldn't have to be fake. We shouldn't have to pretend. But we do. Because we feel we have to. We live in a world full of beauty magazines and makeup and plastic surgery, of diet pills and bulk up powders and drugs, where we're judged on an almost constant basis by how we look, how we dress, who we're seen with, who we're sleeping with, our politics, our religion. We are judged on anything and everything about our lives from the moment we're born until we breathe our last.

               So we fake. We smile. We laugh. We pretend. And we judge ourselves by unattainable goals and ideals of perfection, and we put fake images on pedestals to give ourselves images to strive for.

               And even the ones we dream of becoming are not all that they seem.

               And as the years pass, younger and younger people in our society are becoming caught up in our obsession with perfection, and the unattainable, and they're killing themselves trying to become something to be fawned over, something to be admired, because they mistakenly believe that they're not already there, and that they always were.

               We're born, we smile, we laugh, we pretend. We open our eyes to the world only to close them against what offends our senses or what we believe to be unattractive by our cosmetic and scale-judging standards because it's easier than facing the truth about what we're becoming, and what we allow to continue.

               So we fake.

On Being Lonely

               Do you know what it's like to be lonely? Not every day run of the mill lonely. Everyone knows that.

               I'm talking about deeply, desperately, achingly, "staring out the window wondering if there's a single person alive who is at that moment missing your company or thinking of you at all and knowing that there isn't and hasn't been for a long time" kind of lonely.

               The kind with no end in sight.

               What you wouldn't do-- what you wouldn't give-- to not be lonely, even for a moment. Sometimes it scares you to think about it.

               I've been lonely most of my life. Don't get me wrong. I've had friends, I've had family. I still have family, and friends, both of which show up on occasion. I've got people in my life.

               But you can be in a room full of people, with crowds of people in your life, and be lonely.

               Lonely people know what I mean.

               In a world full of acquaintances and faked smiles and meaningless conversations, with television and high speed travel and the internet making the world a smaller place all the time, you'd think it'd be harder to be alone, let alone to be lonely.

               But if you know what it's like to fake that smile and to get up, get dressed, and go about your day like everything's fine, knowing you're fooling everyone because none of them really care enough or know you well enough to recognize the difference, then you know what I mean.

               At the end of the day, your clothes aren't the only thing you shed when you get home. When the doors are closed and your work is done and there's no one else to smile and act brave and pretend for.

               When the mask is shed, and you climb into the shower and turn the water on so no one will see you or hear you when you cry, because the last thing you need right then is to have to muster up the strength to put together one more lie, because if you tell them the truth, either they'll never believe you, or try to tell you all the reasons you have to be thankful.

               Of course you're thankful for the good things in your life. You're just tired of being alone.

               You're tired of having to fake that smile and put on that mask for everyone else, and knowing it's painted on.

               You're tired of always being okay, whether you're okay or not, because you have no other choice.

               Just for once, what you wouldn't give not to feel lonely. Not to feel alone for just one second of your life. Not to be brave or pretend. Not to have to lie just once to the people who profess to know you, who profess to care. Not to know that if you did try to explain how you really felt, they'd try to prescribe you a cure for your emotions, or to tell you to suck it up, that it's normal, and how everyone knows how you feel. That they know how you feel when you know better.

               Some days are more exhausting than others, smiling, faking, pretending. You come away feeling drained after the simplest of conversations, because your mouth is moving, the words come out, and all the while you wonder what the hell your small talk is worth as the seconds of your life are ticked away, knowing you can never get those precious seconds back. And yet you just let them go, figuring that some form of interaction, even a fake one, is better than none at all.