As Much As It Hurts To Say

Life is hard. People are weak. I just got off of a plane and I'm deathly tired. Mass amounts of incompetence by individuals were encountered today but I have a more pressing issue to address. I saw the Soderbergh film "The Informant!" on the plane. Got me thinking. Watch it. The cinematography is bland, the acting mediocre, and the soundtrack almost annoying. But it is the character of Mark Whitacre that fascinated me. I have a kinship with this man that I cannot express to you. I may have bipolar disorder. I quite clearly live two separate lives and I do lie compulsively at an attempt to merge the two realities while hiding my true feelings. I truly do not understand myself. Why do I do these things? Why do I keep digging deeper? Deeper. Deeper. What gets bigger the more you take out of it? A hole. A hole in my heart. Few things can fix it now. An innocent heart full of true love. Something I have been denied the company of all too often. Oh god....
In view of the judge presiding, Whitacre imagines these stories to satiate his own self-interests. Am I lying to protect myself? Do I put on this mask so that people invest in me? Perhaps it's a survival mechanism. Whitacre, after all, did embezzle over 9 million dollars. Will it do me any good? Sure. Will it do society any good? I don't know. At least not directly.
I admit it, I live false lives. At least I have the courage to say that. BUT THERE ARE THOSE WHO LIVE FREELY. And I envy them. The people who attract attention without reaching for it. I HAVE TO WORK TO FORM RELATIONSHIPS GODAMNIT! The beautiful people: people gifted with pleasant natural superficiality. They don't need to work to be nice or friendly. The luxury comes to them. Ohh but I shudder to think at what a price beauty comes. Without effort we become sloppy and we become naive, even ignorant. The beautiful people become deluded by grandeur and childhood fantasy, and they won't ever be prepared for reality. The world is dark ma cheri, and too few of us have torches...