Life isn't fair, part 63
Sometimes in life, you have to be a big faker.
I’m going through a host of problems. Huge, life-changing events are happening. Pain and grief and hurt and suspicion and lots of confusion.
“Hey, Thom, how’s it going?”
“Great, doing great.”
Big fucking faker.
Enough that I’m puking every morning when I get up (which, for the past six days has been either never or 3 a.m.)
I wear my pain, however. There’s no way to completely hide it. But I can’t tell anyone about it.
It’s embarrassing as much as it is painful.
Because I guess I didn’t do enough.
I didn’t see.
And that’s the fuck of this whole thing.
Being confused, and hurt, is the worst.
I’m going through a host of problems. Huge, life-changing events are happening. Pain and grief and hurt and suspicion and lots of confusion.
“Hey, Thom, how’s it going?”
“Great, doing great.”
Big fucking faker.
Enough that I’m puking every morning when I get up (which, for the past six days has been either never or 3 a.m.)
I wear my pain, however. There’s no way to completely hide it. But I can’t tell anyone about it.
It’s embarrassing as much as it is painful.
Because I guess I didn’t do enough.
I didn’t see.
And that’s the fuck of this whole thing.
Being confused, and hurt, is the worst.
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