Saturday, April 11, 2015
She said I was the first.
Can't get over people. Really can't get over them. You think they're your friends, your lovers maybe, and what are they? Your worst nightmares. Your worst enemies.
And even your enemies you can't trust. No, not even them. Because sometimes, they become your best friends.
People. I just fathom them. Can't read them. They screw with your mind, and your life.
She said I was the first. That was what she said. No-one before me. She said.
But that was a lie. You could tell it was a lie. Not because her eyes sought to close the shutters to the truth bound and gagged within her soul. Not because her voice delivered each world neatly wrapped in plastic wrap, pre-prepared, pre-cooked. Not even because ultimately a lie betrays because it is betrayal.
No, it was a lie and I knew it because it all came so naturally to her. It was an act of habit, of perfection, of honed ability that came not of a sudden instance but from a lifetime of application.
She said I was the first but she lied.
See, I can't get over people. She didn't have to say I was the first. She didn't have to 'specialize' the act, to create the importance. I didn't have to be the turning point for her. It was all so unnecessary. It was all so pointless. She did that which she did, and that was enough. To be the first, the third or the last - it has no real meaning, no power, no conferring of honor or even, shock, of fame. To be the first is just a single one in a series - the location mattering not at all.
She lied and I don't even know why.
But, let me confess now - I don't care that she lied. I don't care that I was not the first. Nor the last.
I am beyond caring.
A corpse with a cut throat loses interest in such things.
Her first murder or her tenth. It doesn't matter to me. You are just as dead.
But I can't get over people. The deception. She said I was the first.