As I sat down, this thought came to mind: "How well do my classmates truly know me?" I can't say I was able to answer that question immediately, but when I look around, observe, and make discreet inquiries, I find the answer: Barely.
Why is that? I have many answers for that... I live behind a fascade of falsehoods, each one built upon the other in such an intricate pattern of dependency that should one be revealed, the whole structure of security I hide behind would fall. But every good lie has some amount of truth, and so mine are also half-true. Not that everything I say is a lie, but some are, I'd rather have people not understand me sometimes. It saves me all the pain, all the sorrows of my years before...
But not all of it is just me and me alone. I notice that people all around barely even care about their friends and their peers. Oh, sure they are concerned, but we hardly act to actually do something, we only spectate, and watch as they flounder about in their misery. Not that this applies to everyone, I'm sure there are those who indiscriminately offer a helping hand, while for others, they will help those closest to them. I'm not excluding myself from this judgement too. I too, more often than not, wouldn't extend an offer of help to others. I'd rather sit aside and observe, nothing more. Perhaps that's why I never stay long in anyone's life. Perhaps that's why I have no one to rely on, even though sometimes I feel better off on my own, rather than rely on those that will inevitably betray you. But, who knows? Life's an irony, and it'll twist every word you say round the other way...
Don't mind me. Just walk on, I'm a foolish poor old pessimist, save your concern for those who truly matter in your life.
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