I don't know

Reads: 484  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The confession of a young, scared man.

Submitted: September 04, 2014

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 04, 2014

A A A

A A A


Let’s get this out of the way; I don’t consider myself a bad person. I may do many things that religion, the rules that govern us or even just the tiny people that make up this huge complicated world would consider as wrong but whenever I just stop and look at myself, caught in a reflection, I don’t see a bad person. I see someone who’s trying to get somewhere but just doesn’t know how. I don’t even know where I’m trying to go. Financial and social security, are these really things that will make me happy. After all isn’t that the ultimate goal of this short life that we live, to be happy? Some people try to rise to the top, some are content smoking dope but in the end, aren’t we all striving for the same thing, using whatever we’ve learnt, whatever tools we have access to? These are questions which I don’t think have an answer. Humans are so insanely complex that I don’t think anyone can tell us what we really want. That’s the kicker though, we are always told that we shouldn’t listen to others, that we know what we want. But I don’t know what I want. I don’t understand why I’m not happy now or whether reaching wherever I’m trying to go will rectify that.

The reason I needed to clarify that I’m not a bad person is because I have flaws, like any of us. Only difference is I allow one major flaw to govern my entire life, if I can even call it my own life anymore. I’m a compulsive liar; I have distorted the truth and manipulated people in order to create a fantasy world where my endeavours are successful. Usually, anyone who could do this would be locked up in an asylum, but because I’ve managed to get so many people to join me in my little world I’m still accepted as ‘normal’ and I suppose that’s where the compulsion comes from. Have you ever told a lie that got so complex that you fear ever owning up to the truth? Imagine that lie being your entire life, because that’s my life and I really don’t know if I’ll ever escape it.

I’ve often considered running away, before any damage can be done. Leaving my family and friends remembering a great man rather than who he really was. But I don’t know if that’s fair. I don’t know if I can let the people I love worship a mask, never knowing what was behind it. I realise the veil could be lifted at any point, that it would be easier if I confessed over being discovered but, if I’m honest, I’ve never feared anything more than the day that I have to be the real me. Because, when it comes down to it, I don’t know that person anymore.

I don’t know when this all started, I suppose you could blame my upbringing, not that I’ve ever agreed with passing the blame for my own sins. When I was fourteen my father left me and my mother, not an uncommon thing, many people have a similar story. Many of those stories also include a father who liked to drink, who liked to control and abuse. I often draw comparisons of myself to him, wondering is my genetic data dictates who I am and the real me is just an echo of the man who raised me. Because he left, our house was repossessed; we ended having to live with my grandmother. I don’t think I’ve ever met a kinder woman, who hides it so well.

My grandmother is a powerful woman, and she has always used her power to protect what she loves and what she loves is her family. Her partially raising me is most likely what gives me the same love for my family, and all the people who make my life a little bit more bearable. You see, I love every one of them more than I could describe and I think that may be what drives me to build this world around my actual self.

Throughout life, the actual me has always disappointed. No girlfriend, no money, no education, no hope.  But, if all these people are willing to make my life seem happier then how can I ever tell them that my life isn’t happy? I don’t think I have the heart to let them know that their efforts are in vain, I don’t want them to worry about me. So I create this world where my life is happy, where I have a gorgeous girl by my side, a high-paying job and enough qualifications to walk on the moon. I create false happiness, for the people I love.

I suppose the reason I’m writing all of this down is because I can’t continue. I’m tired of wearing the mask, I’m tired of going out of my way to deceive those I love when I could be seeking true happiness, it’s been so long and I’m in so deep that I don’t even remember what true happiness feels like. I want to escape, without hurting anyone. I’m aware that’s not possible. There’s no way out of this without damaging the people I hold dearest so, I guess the real question is. Can I do this? Am I ready to step out of my own world and enter reality? And I guess the answer is: I don’t know.


© Copyright 2020 Theodore the Time Traveller. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments: