Faking

I faked my hair colour when I was 15. I faked leather and fur and loved it. I sometimes faked happiness, I faked relationships, I faked tears to get what I wanted, I faked interest in things I didn't really care about. Two weeks ago I wore a fake tattoo, to make sure the real one will look just right. I faked piercings before getting real ones. Now I'm seriously considering fake blue eyes. I faked having control over my life and ended up asking for professional help when I realized I couldn't fake it anymore.

I'm beginning to think I could fake just about anything. With one exception. And that's probably the one thing I should be faking, but my art has not yet reached that level of refinement. I can't fake belonging to a world that I find repulsive in every way. In some particular situations, I can't fake smiles, smell like cheap perfume and pretend we have anything in common. Drugstores should sell antidotes to hypocrisy and the level of shallowness should be regulated by law. And in the meantime, I should find my very own antidote. Otherwise, I fear one day I will throw up right in the middle of a fancy event. And there wouldn't be anything fake about it.