It is unbelievably breathtaking and that is not a good thing.

Thinking that you lived in a world in which you had to pretend.

PRETEND- such a bad word. To be pretensive, to know someone who pretends. I hate it, not only because it hurts but because it depicts everything that I am. I pretend because I want to fit in but it saddens me at the thought that I have to pretend. However, every time I try to be true, be real, it's like a slap to the face, a run in with a brick wall.

And again I feel the betrayal, the isolation from the world. The knowledge that I can never be true, be real. It hurts so deep that I have to be surrounded by so many pretensive people who hates me; what I represent.

The saddest part is knowing that if I pull back I'll lose the only persons I began to think of as friends... or do I hang onto the pretensiveness of a friendship that can never be real?

Yet the thought of living a lie kills me inside and I realize I have to choose. Choose between living a lie or being real, being honest. But being honest destroys me, bringing me to my knees and burying me in my own sorrows.