I'm not.
I've faked confidence and happiness for so long that people misconstrue it for something it isn't.
I'm not being cocky when I make factual statements; I'm smart, therefore I know stuff. If you don't want to know something, don't ask the question. I'm of the impression that questions are to be answered, unless they're obviously rhetorical.
I'm not being a bitch when you walk up to me unannounced and I'm deep in concentration/in my own world; I have resting bitch face and selective hearing, due to a five year old who never. shuts. up.
When I have my fake smile on that looks more like a grimace, it's not because I can't stand to be around you; it's because on the inside, I'm dying a little every day, and every day it gets a little harder to pretend.
If I tell a stupid little lie that is obviously untrue, it's not because I'm a liar: it's because I'm afraid to tell the truth. Afraid to be judged. Afraid I'm going to be found wanting. Afraid someone will look at me a little too closely and see this facade that I wish were true, if only for a minute. Because Lord forbid I let it be known that I'm in the pits of depression, green with envy as all my friends fulfill their dreams, while I'm stuck in this pit. This hell. This pathetic thing known as my life.
And when I'm quick to lose my temper at you, it's not because I'm a cow. It's because I've been burnt far too many times and am now forever afraid to let new people in.
So the next time you come across someone who seems like a snobby bitch, don't be quick to give them the flick. You never know when being the first to say "hello" will make a person's day.
Peace out.
- L. x
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