Deceiver

Deceiver: (n) someone who leads you to believe something that is not true 

Sin is not as nasty when I do it.

It gains a certain reasonability that I fail to notice when it’s performed by others.

I am constantly confused because I feel compelled to mingle my intentions, my heart and my history in with my present batch of foolishness, to come up with a diluted conclusion, which is also quite deluded.

I knew her for eight years.

She was a beautiful human being.

For some reason, she decided to cast her lot with me. She believed in my music and she risked the disapproval of her friends and family, all in the pursuit of a dream.

And the dream was much more than dreamy.

There were actual points when the dream became a reality—but always with a cost:  a little piece of integrity and the necessity, at least in the moment, of becoming a deceiver, to maintain the probability.

She saw me lie.

No one ever really gets over that.

If I were able to lie to a stranger, I certainly could become more adept and learn to lie to her.

She saw me cheat.

She saw my verbosity cause me to become both a tyrant and a blow-hard.

There were many good times.

But mentioning the good times in the midst of recounting the actions of a deceiver is a rationalization—like trying to hold water in a paper bag.

I don’t know why she stayed for eight years.

She must have loved the hell out of me.

Unfortunately, enough hell remained that she was forced to depart.

Of course, she was no princess herself—or she would never have been able to stay with this deceiver.

I haven’t spoken to her in forty years.

It is a very good remedy for her soul.

Because even if she knew that I am now sorry to the point of vexation, it wouldn’t change the deception that tore at the fabric of our dream.

After all, when the deceiver finishes his day, he must return to his home, lay on his bed and wonder who deceived him.

 

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