Pretending

Pretending like nothing's wrong.

Or that I like the food I've been served.

Or that I don't really want to eat the rest of the box of doughnuts.

Pretending that I've got it all together.

Or that I'm not embarrassed.

Or that the fact that my mother's death doesn't scare the *%$# out of me on a daily basis.

Pretending that I didn't smell that.

That writing doesn't mean that much to me.

That I don't wish I could run away sometimes.

That I'm not depressed.

That I'm not secretly overjoyed about getting my own way.

Pretending that my mistakes don't affect my children.

That I didn't hear Maggie call someone a jerk because I don't want to deal with her.

That I don't have bills that need paying.

That you didn't hurt my feelings.

Pretending that I don't secretly like the BeeGees.

Or that my knee's not hurting.

Pretending like I don't have $12.00 in late fees at the library.

That I don't desperately long for all of Chris' attention sometimes.

That I don't need to shave my legs.

But worse, pretending to be an orphan when I am really the beloved daughter of the Most High.

The elusive realness of being me. Just me. Not the me I wish I was.