"Why is Everyone pretending?"

My Higher Self arches a brow while My Current Self blinks back, fingers fidgeting a little as an urge to punish myself for such a strange question. They bring their hands down to cover my own and gently shake their head, then smile with an understanding I've never had from anyone else. I suppose being yourself, nobody can connect with you quite as much as you.

"Are you sure you want to know why everyone pretends or why you do?"

"I already know why I pretend," I reply stubbornly. "This world isn't safe for me. I have to be safe."

"What if that's why others do it, too? This belief that they have to be something particular in order to be protected from the cruel eyes of the world?"

"Well... But no. People aren't like that. They aren't like me. Maybe some are," I relent when she gives me a pointed look, "but I know we can't all be doing it for the same reason. That wouldn't make any sense. We're too different, humanity."

"You say humanity is different. And yet you all eat and all smile and all think and all find the most random things to give you joy, no matter how short or long. You all torture yourselves and hate and fear parts of yourselves and struggle with the meaning of life as if it was ever meant to have a transcendent meaning in the first place other than to be alive. You eat, shit, suffer, smile, sink, sleep. You go on and on despite the madness like nobody's business because the only other option is to die and the thought is so interesting yet terrifying that everyone has their own struggle making peace with it. You are different, child but you are very much the same in many fundamental ways. That is why you are all a species. That is among the many things that makes you human. Other than the physical... I suppose."

"You're going off on a tangent."

"There's nothing wrong with going off on a tangent, Self. Getting lost helps you find-"

"I hear you but you haven't answered the question!"

"And why are you so curious to know? It's something that frustrates you. It's such an isolating game; pretend. Everyone does it at least a bit. Some aren't bothered by it, some are chiefly bothered by it... You've played the game your whole life. Told yourself that it's necessary to act to be loved and accepted, that came to you right from childhood and it stuck, didn't it? A shame, really. You're more wonderful than you think. And now you want to know the reasons why others do. To validate yourself, to make yourself feel a little less alone in this lonesome way of yours."

"Just gimme my answer. I need to go soon."

"I won't."

"Wh-"

"I won't because I know you. That validation you seek? That escape from loneliness that you seek? It is something all people struggle with but more importantly, it is what you struggle with, Self. Stop searching for the answers from everyone else. Stop trying to make your experiences fit what you believe is meant to be the way a human being acts and feels. You are a human being. Allow yourself to be. Allow yourself to simply be as you are. The pretence will fade away with time."

"But what if they don't like it?"

"Self-"

"Alright, alright. But what if I don't like it? Reality is painful. And there is so much of me to hate-"

"There is even more of you to love. And adore. And worship. And cherish. I can't wait for you to realise it. I hope they do, too."

Why does everyone cling to love? Love is extremely subjective, in my opinion. Everyone has their own definition of love, despite there being a universal definition. For some, love could look like obsessiveness. For others, love could look like romantic dinners and cute picnic dates with a marriage down the road. Or, a best friend. All of these in some way are true. But is love real? How do we know what we feel is real? Are we real?

Reality is also subjective. Why does everybody believe in a higher power? Why do we need an explanation of why we are here? Our curiosity is never-ending. Our intelligence will be our downfall. We will never stop learning until our death. Personally, I don't believe in a higher power. A set of rules written in an old book does not explain our existence. We always need an explanation for something, but some things should remain unexplained and will remain so. We will never know until we are gone. We are simply organisms whose consciousness and deep emotion are a cursed blessing. Peace will never exist, and love will never be unconditional. Those who say the only unconditional love we will ever receive is from our parents are ignorant. From thousands, no, millions of cases of abuse and neglect, this can easily be proven wrong. We will never be loved our entire lives. Love does not exist. Yet we cling to it.

We cling to things we cannot have. We want things we will never have. Our curiosity is our driving motive. This intrigues me. Once we have those things, we want more. We are never satisfied. We are never happy. Satisfaction and happiness do not exist either. We do not exist. We are in a reality that does not exist. No reality is a reality. Yet, reality is reality because we believe so and we do exist. Life and death are contradictory. Life leads to death, so there is no life. Death leads to a new life, supposedly, so there is no death. Neither matter. It is an endless cycle of chemicals, senses, and experiences. It will never be real. For all we know, we live in a game. We live in a book. We live in a letter. We will never know. I hope we never know.

Why is everyone in competition over who can care less?

Why is everyone afraid to say how they feel?

Why must we play the game?

What happens if we don't?

Why is everyone scared of the shadows?

The ones lurking in the corners of our rooms, slipping from shade to shade in the dead of night. Peacefully sitting in silence and softly moving so as to not disturb us.

Why is everyone scared of the shadows?

The simple and sweet things which creep around us at night. Whether it be while we are sleeping or walking along a silent path in the moonlight.

Why is everyone scared of the shadows?

To me they are family. Watching over me as I sleep. Protecting me at my most vulnerable. Creeping up to my bedside to guard me, and singing soft whispers of their people as I fall into the realm of sleep.

Why is everyone scared of the shadows?

They are gentle creatures who observe and protect. They whisper the secrets of the world to each other, and they would whisper them to you if you just listened.

Why is everyone so concerned about the future? There are so many more immediate things to fear, recognize-or perhaps revel in.

I find myself more often than not, focusing on the former.

Is the chicken for dinner undercooked?

Is this pain in my neck a strained muscle?

Is it safe to shower, or will I slip?

Is this ladder wobbling beneath me?

Is that thunder getting louder; lightning getting closer?

Is that car moving faster, ignoring the yield sign?

Is my left arm going numb?

Why is everyone so concerned about the future, when we are never guaranteed one, to begin with?

Why is everyone so angry? It seems that wherever you look someone is pissed about something or other. I guess as these words spill out of my brain, I'm mad about something too. I'm frustrated with humanity, I'm irritated at my clueless-ness, and I'm annoyed that there are so many words to describe an unhappy emotion that can cause so many negative things for people. Fist fights, break-ups, anger can destroy houses. The things we do out of anger are terrifying. This emotion can take over us and make our decisions for us. It's scary. And on top of all of that, nobody can tell me why everyone is angry. Why is it so hard to stop thinking about the negatives and just chill?