Fake

Two words to describe what I’m feeling of late:

虚假: False, a pretence, fake, an act

心里不正: literally meaning ‘heart is not straight’, heart out of place, askew, just not…right

I don’t do it on purpose, to be fake. I think I’m not even putting any acts on for anybody per se.

But I feel fake.

I feel as though I’m walking through a paper diorama, that I’m a character cast in a movie, the movie of my life. Every gesture I make, however naturally, has become so beautifully theatrical, as if for a camera some where.

The tears that I cry are real all right, but even those I doubt. I doubt myself. Am I crying in pain, or of something else? For the unseen camera’s close-up shot?

For who? There’s no one in the room.

I don’t like it. I don’t do it on purpose, watching myself from a second, third eye. It would have been better if I were at least doing it for someone else’s benefit.

But it doesn’t appear so. I think.

I can’t peel back the layers of myself. I’m lost in the maze of my mind. I don’t know which part of me is real and which is not.

I’m actually trying so hard to break out.

No one will know, though, since the act is not for them. Only I will know. And having to be the objective judge of myself, well, it can’t end well.

Heart is askew, is askew, tipping over with the blatant absence. It’s funny, how it tips so readily, not because of the obstacles and challenges life throws at you, but rather because something is missing.

I’m going back. I have to. I’d die otherwise.

When I’m hungry, I have to eat. Thirsty, I drink.

Empty and foolish and falling, seek Him.

Seek and knock and ask.