Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off lying. Lie like the fae do, with secrets and omissions and half-told tales, everything asked for but not the whole truth and never what’s needed. Like trading your soul to the devil, always a catch unseen til it’s too late.
\nThe catch is that it’s me. I’m the one you don’t want, the one who won’t make deals under the table, won’t trade my honour for your regard. Compulsive honesty? Give me a break. Intentional omission, oh yes, never giving a straight answer to a direct question.
\nI didn’t have to say. How \/easy\/ would it have been, so simple, say nothing and ingratiate myself, warm and friendly, caring and willing. Just make another account (how many is that now?).
\nTemptation. Not even stepping close to that thing I won’t do, not even pretending to be something I’m not.
\nBut doing the right thing is the wrong thing again; another scar in the same place. Not allowed to bleed; not supposed to care; it’s just a game, right? Where does that line lie? Just a game; just friends I’m not allowed to have. Just disregarded again; no second chances.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Sometimes I wonder if I’d be better off lying. Lie like the fae do, with secrets and omissions and half-told tales, everything asked for but not the whole truth and never what’s needed. Like trading your soul to the devil, always a catch unseen til it’s too late. The catch is that it’s me. I’m … Continue reading <\/span>