Please come again

Relationship – code for feeling like a complete idiot half the time. I don’t like being an idiot. I spend half of my days and most of my nights studying so that I won’t think and keep myself contained. I spend most of my life studying to get into college because if only I were surrounded by people who are smart, and I keep the conversation going, understand and get them, if only. Then, I too must be smart. I too, contrary to much of what I have been told, am not an idiot.

But I do I feel like an idiot now. Deluded and misguided by the wonderful world of lies. Foolish and mislead by lies, by lies, by lies. I hate lies. I do not ask for much. The only thing I need is honesty, and you cannot even give me that? The only thing I ask of you is honesty and yet you can look me in the face and lie. Was it not I who was yellow? And rotten, and cold? Was it not mine the distant watch, the ticking clock?

Smile. Smile. Good morrow!

Oh forgive my manners, I forgot to introduce you to the woman of the manner. I must be out of my mind. This here is the incognita Miss Moraes. Do not worry, she cannot hear you, her brain went splat last summer. And there, in the corner, no no, more to the left. Ai, now that she turned it seems it is not. Well I am not quite sure where she is, but she is wearing white. If you find her and need me to properly introduce, it is Lady Legitimacy I talk about. Such a wonderful woman. I would have given anything to give her a tap, but she is hard to find these days...

Ah yes, you are probably right. She must be out snogging some stranger; some shady sap, with his head so far up his ass that his insides are meshed and crap.

Can you not see that if you cannot be true, you cannot be anything at all? I don’t understand you. Light the thread - show me dynamite. Make me feel, implode. I implore of thee. Shake me up for I quite dislike this version of reality. Prove me wrong. Please. Prove to me that you are not the walls to my box. Or, if you must be, then let you at least be concrete. Prove to me that someday my room won’t come tumbling down, that I won’t be squashed, that I won’t become a tightly packed piece of baggage: a stomped tiny thing, a stress with a zipper, bouncing front and back whilst you go off and have fun, until one day I carry too much. And Bam. The suitcase is no use now, no need to be sad. Discart it! It was a leap away from happening anyhow.

No worries. No regrets. No problems.

Down the corridor to the left, then yes, left again, you’ll see it, the store, open 24.

Smile. Smile. Good morrow!
Suitcase? Backpack? Briefcase? Okay, just at the back.
Oh nice choice, the leather. And it is your lucky day. See that stain? It won't go away. But I'll get you a good price for that. Just $9, 99 and I'll even through in the matching hat.

No. Laughs, Laughs.
Thank you! Hair twirl --
Please come again.