I think I'm turning into one of those people. Those people who never believe, never trust anything. Or maybe I've always been one of those people, but I didn't believe it, so my disbeliefs cancelled each other out.
Lately, to me, everything is too good to be true. I suppose that I always knew that. At some level. But lately I'm realizing it on every level.
It's like I've spent my life in the audience of a magic show. By now, I've seen it all. And it's all been fake. Even if I don't know how a trick is done, even if I can't see the mirrors or the wires or the trapdoors, I still know that it's all fake.
And most of the enjoyment goes away.
Disillusioned. That's a pretty good word. I no longer want to be fooled by life, so its illusions are often wasted on me. And lately it's gone a step beyond that. I find myself actively looking for the tell-tales to all of the illusions that I see. The red flags. The smoke and the mirrors and the misdirections. Those thing aren't working on me as often as they once did. Instead, they're sometimes having the opposite effect. Instead of blinding and distracting me, they're calling out to me loudly and clearly, that this is all fake. You should trust nothing and nobody.
Sometimes.
Not all the time.
All the time would be cool. I'd never be fooled again.
But I'm not quite there yet.
I am still fooled. Every now and then. The most fantastic illusions still captivate me and suck me into their world. Until I remember the truth.
There is no magic.
It's all fake.
Every bit of it.
The bigger the illusion, the more disappointing the reality.
Ladies cannot be sawn in half. Men cannot fly. Doves cannot appear out of thin air.
Fake. All of it.
There were no sparkles. There was no electricity. There was no connection.
Fake. All of it.
