It was easy to dream. Easy to make herself believe that the life she was living was her own. That the people she loved loved her back, wanted her as she wanted them. As she needed them. It was so easy to dream the life of another, so easy to super impose herself in their place. It was almost a easy as smiling, as breathing, as living. Her life could never be simple, not while she lived the good life. The fake life. And it was fake. Every smile that shined, every tear that glistened and every word spoken.
As she looked into their eyes and smiled that bright smile she knew that they believed. How easy it was to make them believe. How easy it was to pretend to be who she was. Because she wasn't and that made it all the better. The innocence that surrounded her was a well practiced guise. The light that beckoned so many to her was truly a shadow. She glittered just like fools gold and all the greedy picked at her and she loved it. 'Let them believe' she thought to herself, 'Their pain was their own'.
She pasted a smile onto her face, opened her arms for their warm embrace and she cried. Her heart cried out, it begged for them to see that she was a liar. That she was not nice or innocent or sweet. It begged for them to see the evil in her soul and begged them to realize, to not be so easily fooled. This role that had once been so fun to play no longer was a role. She lost herself and she waited for someone to find her again. To save her. Because the lie slipped through her lips with such ease, venom coated in honey. She was poison and so much of her loved it while so little wished that it was different. She was at war with her self and it killed her heart a little more each day to see the evil in her win.
If you looked closely at her face you would be able to read the lies before they left her lips. But you like the lies. They make you feel so good about yourself, so worthy. So you accept the evil in her all the while pretending that it was the good. It' so easy to believe the innocence she proclaims because you want to. So easy to let her lose herself because the more she loses the more she becomes someone like you. Someone you want, someone you need. You ache for the lie and she gives into your addiction. You pretend to not see the pain in her heart and the blackness of her soul. You pretend because you want to, because you need to, because you have to. Because if she ever found herself then she would lose you.