I’ve always wanted to be a liar. There are so many things I wish I could have done, wish I could have thought, wish I could have believed. It seems that I never seize a moment and make it remarkable, or even interesting. Even reading that sentence I realize that was a lie, it IS interesting to never be interesting, at least from some standpoints (maybe medical). But there have been things that I really wanted to be different from any other day, that haven’t, and I look back on those and think of what I could have done, and wished I could have acted that way. Looking back on what I could have done seems like something one would say after not saving someone from getting hit by a car, or from a burning building, but my situation is just really trivial I guess, ridiculous really. A few years ago I had a conversation with my dad and sister about how we visualized normal passages of time, like days of the week, and they both had really interesting internal diagrams. My dad saw the days in a counterclockwise circle. I don’t remember what my sister saw, but I do know that I had always seen the days of the week in a line, from Sunday to Saturday, just as I was taught, just as I assumed everyone else thought of the days of the week. I really wanted to be able to say that I saw the days floating in space changing colors like the fish you see on TV, or something stupid like that just so it would be more interesting than a line, just a line. Then when my dad died I wanted to be able to go crazy, to break something, even to just cry for awhile—something to show me that it was a really emotional time. It was, so far the most in my life, just not outwardly. A good friend of mine told me after the funeral that my eyes were bottomless, like blackholes, and I think that’s the only outward emotion I had. All I could do is sit in my room and stare at my wall when I found out, like I do when I’m bored sometimes, then calmly decided whether I should stay at school for class or go home immediately. I wish that I didn’t have to think about everything, that I could have gotten off the phone with my mom and at least ran out to my car unprepared for a trip home, no clothes, no toothbrush, no gas. Almost everything I do is calculated, thought through, and I wish that spontanaeity could be a bigger part of my life than an interestingly spelled word.
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