Fake life, or perfect lie.

Having to keep encouraging myself to feel happy and positive every morning, I can’t help but feel it is all so fake. It’s like I have to keep lying to myself that the world is after all a beautiful place and as long as I work hard, I’ll reap what I sow. Moreover, it is a greatly tough process, especially for a person who feels negative by nature, and has had gone through a sad past.

I have to admit those times when I succeeded in “lying to myself”, I feel joyful and inspired though. But sometimes, like now, nothing seems more than like a perfect lie.

This came about in M&M’s Mamak Party, where I was amazed by my very own reluctance to socialise. And not counting the disheartening fact that my jokes drew no laughter but my silly mannerisms did. I tried to be funny. I tried so hard to express myself but it feels like stepping out of a door to find yourself falling.

“Benny you’re a nice guy but I’m sorry to say this, you’re a boring person,” H once told me that. And that was when I was walking out of my depression, but I still did not dare to let anyone into my heart.

I took that as a constructive remark and I worked on myself. Even though nobody have seen the changes in me, I really did improve myself. I tore down the wall and built up my confidence, hoping to cheat myself into believing that I look good and I can be fun. And I really thought I look good.

Thought. Past tense.

Without my knowing, negativity and insecurity has seeped back into my life. Or am I a totally lousy person altogether? I have so many things that I hate about myself; and nothing I saw that I can love.

Everyone’s unique. I fail uniquely.