lies i tell (400)

sorry. sorry, darlings, that i’m not the woman you want me to be. i’m so sorry that i’m inflexible, that i don’t believe in changing myself purely for you. and for all the mes that you want me to be, the carbon-blotted copies you believe could exist in a hundred other universes –

the girls you think i could be, dainty and sweet and fun. sorry that i’m wretched and cynical, bittersweet and sometimes-ethereal.

no. none of these women are here. they are only living the lives you want them to, in the corners of your imagination. i’d say i wish i could be what you want, but that is one art i’ve never mastered. (the first art i mastered was being what wanted me to be)

sorry, sweetheart, that i haven’t yet bent to the blueprint you laid out for me. i tried for the sake of something new, expecting magic. tried for the sake of myself, for doing the enjoyment of doing something new – sorry that i hated it, and folded back into my old habits, easy as a pair of broken-in ballet flats.

sorry that i came to hate you, and in doing so burned my bridges well before construction was done. i think we could have got along; could have worked together well – it’s just that you have too many ideas of how i’m supposed to be. sorry that you somewhere along the line you learned to expect diamonds from me and only got coal, and that you failed to give me any good impetus for change.

(you got less than half of your expectation; you’ve set up failure)

sorry for the time i couldn’t keep my word, that my own advancement took priority and gratification had to be delayed. sorry for putting myself first, instead of focusing on petty wants. and for putting you to one side; no, it wasn’t uncalled for. (remember you told me to do just that, once)

sorry you were willing to settle for mediocrity, and that i wanted something a bit more polished out of life. -and that i was never interested in pretense, in faking my own interest in average. sorry for knowing myself best, and never kowtowing to your supposedly-superior knowledge, never apologizing for my own presence in the world.

sorry i never needed you.

3 thoughts on “lies i tell (400)”

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