i'm not sure why she had to bend back like that. it didn't help me avoid anything, that's for sure.
when all that's left is a recurring glance backward and a heavy ambivalence, i can't pretend i know how to promise anymore.
the part where i used to think "what should i say?" has been replaced by a highlight reel of fumble after fumble. i can hear marv albert's voice in my head and the chortling of a nationwide audience.
perhaps the most difficult part is that i don't even know my own motives anymore. if i speak, i might lie without knowing it, so perhaps i am better off just keeping quiet. the questions people ask don't really have obvious answers, and so i just make things up. if i don't know the truth, or if i know they don't want to really know the truth, then what? at this point, i've realized that most people think they know the truth before they ask, and if i tell them what i know, i'll be called a liar. so really, there's a level at which ambiguity is the true, and specifics are the false, no matter what my own perception is. in other words, so many people make up their own truth these days, and i'm not sure trying to convince them or shake them from that is worth it anymore.

(written by a character i'm thinking of using in a story)