Lying Under Oath

“You caught her. The jist is up. No more place left to hide, but she keeps on running. Stop her. Wait, don’t. Let her keep living in this charade. What is she trying to prove anyway? He knows, you know, fuck, they all know. But why does she continue to lie through her teeth? You have her cornered. Nowhere left to run bitch. She feels awkward. She doesn’t say anything. Not to you at least. She can’t even look at you. She’s a bit surprised, but she wants to maintain the upper hand. She doesn’t even know you exist. She’s sitting in hot fucking water.”

The funny thing about full moons is, it makes everyone fucking crazy. My theory is that because during the night we sleep we use the stars as a blanket. We hide under its magnificence and dream. After all, star-gazers are the best dreamers. Now my point is, stars help us escape the reality we go through every day from sun rise to sun down. They give us a way out, an option to pretend we are someone else, to feel like we are something better. Now when there is a full moon, the light reflecting off of it brightens the night sky, voiding the stars shine. Thus we don’t see the stars as clearly, thus we can’t dream of better things. Our reality from the daytime is then carried on to our night, and we have to sleep with our regrets, mistakes, and imperfections.

“During the summer you never thought that Usher and R. Kelly’s song ‘Same Girl’, would ever have much relevance to your life. Now although you only hooked up with her once, it was strong hook up. Remember? Home run-hookup. The other guy though probably got a hand job or a beej, but the fact remains is that you both were talking to her at the same time. Fuck he met her a day before she met you. It’s funny though, he didn’t give her the benefit of the doubt like you did. He suspected something was up. He is smart. He kept his cool. He let her come to him if she wanted to hang out. You should have played his game too, but I guess it was too late at that point. She had you already. She knew what you tasted like. Once was enough for her. The stories you and the other guy exchange are hilarious. The best part is, the boyfriend she told you she has, has no idea what the fuck is going on. He just sees that he went from being in a relationship to being single. HA. Thank you NewsFeed.”

Cigarettes are going to kill you. I know this for a fact, but nothing in the world is sweeter than watching each cigarette burn down to the filter as it represents your life. We are all dying. They say that once we’re born our death clock starts ticking. That is the reality of it. Anything in the world can kill us, but cigarettes do it in a tasteful way. Fuck all the things it does to your lungs, nothing can top the beauty of seeing your life flash before your eyes as it blows away in the smoke. We are all going to die. Cigarettes give me the heads up and take me to a world that is somewhat like the after life. It gives me a sneak preview on what’s on the other side. It’s gorgeous. Each exhale makes me strong. Each inhale makes me yearn. By the time the filter leaves my fingers with a quick flick, I am back with everyone else. Continuing my life as if I never saw what it was like on the other side.

“He doesn’t want her at all. Not after all the shit he knows about her. Not after his conclusion of her just being a total slut. She tries to get close to him; he doesn’t reciprocate. Damn, he has some will. You know that if you were him, you would have been all up on that shit. Fuck you still want to be all up on that shit. You can’t it sucks because you only got a sample. You want the whole thing. But keep watching. He doesn’t entertain her attention. You see her slightly flirt with the other guys in the room. What a whore. She’ll do anything at this point, all she fucking needs now is the attention. Don’t feel bad that no one is showing her love. She deserves it. Remember what she said to you? ‘I only started dating James to get you away from me’. Remember what you said back, ‘Mission accomplished. Have a nice fucking life. Whore.’ You better hope to God that shit stung. You want to know if she cried. She better have cried. She has to have.”

Whores make normal people feel better about themselves. They let us know that our lives are so fucked up as we make it out to be. In a way they give us a chance to see the beauty of things. While a whore is living a life of debauchery, we appear to be saints next to them. Hanging out with them lets us see the beauty in all things. But then as the whores come and go, we sit in a room by ourselves. We realize that they aren’t as different as we are. In fact we are one in the same. We too are whores, selling out, giving up our dignity for some quick fix of anything. We are all whores. It’s just that some make us feel better than other. But the fact remains is that we can’t escape this. Whoring is what it is. You move on from one to the next in order to find some sense of enlightenment. Fucked up.

“It’s getting later and later. She still hasn’t said a fucking word to you. You see her glance a few times out at you. She’s shaking uncontrollably. She’s nervous as fuck. The other people in the room call her out about it. She says its something that she always does. She never shakes. In fact, she is the one who always called you out about shaking. She’s feeling awkward. Good. This is the position you wanted to put her in. She knows we know. She needs to leave. He wants to go to bed. He says he’ll walk her half way. You run to his friend and ask him how bad she really was shaking. He demonstrates, and then you all laugh. You turn to his other friend and say that he’s next in line for the whore mobile. He covers his face and laughs. Secretly he wouldn’t mind, but he knows he’d get shit if he did. The other kid comes back. He tells you what she said. The bitch is still lying. She knows I called her a whore because she has multiple things going on with multiple guys. She says because she told me she didn’t like me. Bitch still hasn’t learned her lesson.”

Reality is fucked up. Some people live with it and find their escapes in the little things like looking up at the stars, and some people deny it by continuously lying their asses off. We all deal with it in our own way, but how we deal with it is what shows our character. It’s what sets you apart from everyone else. It is what labels you and what labels her. I maybe a whore, I’ll admit to that. But pretending you aren’t a whore and you are. Well then, that’s just a goddamn shame.