Never rock bottom.

I realise everything only is a matter of getting used to. When I desperately want things to be okaye, I turn tables around and put the light on my face. I decide, or perhaps it’s more agreeable that I spontaneously familiarize myself with the things that I used to call unusual. They aren’t worth calling them that, after all. Not what with how often they happen.

I kiss but my eyes focus on somewhere else. The bright lipstick and huge pearls catch my eye, and I very slowly realise those are what have made me searching for what changed. I say something nice and my mind tells me that’s just not me; definitely not. I smile at her as she gives me a fake grin. And for another moment I feel like I’ve been fakin’ everything. Only this time, I don’t think it’s funny anymore. It hits me that I’ve been obliging myself not to be myself and I’ve been okaye with it. Shoot. That’s just so wrong.

I search my mind for more things to say but I just want not to dwell in what I found wrong. On second thought, maybe I’ve just forgotten about everything else. I get the idea that I’m just trying to get away. Ugh. I don’t know. I don’t even know how often I am uncertain of things.

I hear high hopes and I remember the tears I shed just hours ago. I am hopeful too. I don’t want to end my drama with the usual blah. But honesty is never redundant.