VAGUE

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

The lies that everyone's fear most are the ones close enough to the truth to pass under the radar, or else the ones that are so big you'd never dream a person could make something like that up. The half-truths lead away from trust into mere like closet xenophobia. The big ones are shock and awe; it just roots in fear so the primal brains start doing the thinking.

Once you're in survival mode there's a muzzle on your higher thinking, concepts like altruism, charity and cooperation become whispers among the anxious screams. If you fight it you stick out,

you're a rebel

a conspiracy theorist

a marked person

So you take the issue blinkers and set about your day, its either punch the clock, eat the cookie, buy the coffee. Lies are swirling all around everyone, suffocating and sophisticated, the empty shape in inside each one steals breath and now we're dead. Through perfect teeth comes the truth and the lies, all vibrations in the air, inconsequential to the medium through which they travel.

Only I know the difference.

So watch those perfectly aligned slabs of white enamel, taking in his entire being. Seeing the anger flash, the urge to hide his true feelings, all the remaining composed. Hidden these feelings for years and never intended to tell, forcing into a life that wasn't quite right,

not quite real.

The lie slipped out, smooth and easy like melted butter running down toast.

Everyone fed me lie,

after lie,

after lie.

They did it in such a way as if I were sitting in front of them holding out a dinner plate begging to be fed. Having such high hopes, such belief that whatever they said would come true, shut out every word from all whose mouths had something poorly to say, and shut them out in such a way as if it were a heavy wooden door,

not even budging for the strongest man.

And I give them the greatest lie to everyone

Pretend to be dead

Just like Hitler who fake his own death and got to escape into Argentina, a fictional story written in an attempt to understand his karmic debt, it is like Hitler himself just owned the world had he survived.

Everyone's feast the idea that the town's great Pendelton was dead. All of it was part of my plans

Part of my Scheme.

Starting from the idea that I ran away after the night of 10th interrogation, having the will power on a finite resource, it burns energy in the brain; then it's like once you run out,

you give in.

To make all these pointless choices and then wondering why I can't stick to my resolutions.

I need to decide

I need to move

It's like running an athlete nonstop and then wondering why they can't sprint. I want to give some peace, give a world where everything I do isn't morally wrong in some way, then I can be the person who can give justice.

I need to be for all of us

It's like these three persons meet at a mahogany table inside my brain. One is as negative and dark as a demon on a toad stool. His voice shakes with fear, as he advises against this move,