Distorted truths

I spend too much time falling in love with memories that my mind has dusted, soaped up, and wiped down. However, my infatuation never seems to be with people but more so with a distortion of the truth; an illusion of who they really are. Sometimes this is not at all based on any real understanding of them, but on a fantasy I created of who I needed them to be in that moment that I orchestrated their role in my mind. Why can’t I ever see people without creating some narrative about them that convinces me of their personalities and characteristics, when in fact it is for them to show me what I need to see?

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Filed under Short Prose & Poetry

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