I get that I should be discreet.
I understand the gravity of the situation at hand.
I understand how delicate a situation this has become.
One must handle things like these with kid gloves if one wants to maintain one’s integrity.

Yet a part of me just doesn’t care.
A part of me wants to throw caution to the wind, let the chips fall where they may. Screw it.

I’m tired of being aware of how things might be perceived.
How I might be perceived.

I’ve been judged my whole life anyway.
If I made the wrong choice, I was condemned for it.
If I made the right choice, I didn’t make it fast enough.
I’m tired of not being who I really am.
I’m sick to death of putting on this mask everyday.
I dread it. Loathe it.
Why can’t I just be myself? Would it scare them that much for me to genuine?

Absolutely.
It would force them to look into the mirror at their own false pretenses. Notice I didn’t say their faults? It’s not their faults I take exception with, it’s their disingenuous nature. It’s the requirement for all those around them to take part in this masquerade, so as to not remind them of their own ruse.

What a spectacle this life has become.