I am not an exceptionally gifted liar. Not face-to-face, at least. I have never been quite successful in masking a face that is never content unless she presents herself to the world. One only has to look at my face and he will already know what thoughts my mind carry. I might never part my lips, run my tongue over them and then give an utterance, yet, still I communicate volumes. Most days I wish I am able to despise someone without giving myself away. I wish I am able to hanker for a man without him seeing me devour every juicy bits of him from beneath my eyelash extensions. Most days I wish I am…slow witted, one who’s blessed with the blankness of facial expression that comes quite naturally. It would be a cherished gift for someone who is hardly ever able to be quiet and still, where her face is concerned.
As if the uproar of my demeanor and my face’s natural ability to reveal even the most veiled of my mental processes are not telling enough, I can go on and on and on (all day, to anyone I’m interested in) with oral argumentation.
Having a working gag reflex for even the deepest darkest secrets is horrible especially when dealing with people who must never have an iota of idea how much power they have over me. Though in my defence, I constantly say things to thwart what they think they perceive -– which, unfortunately, is often the naked truth. Those times I actually try to be absolutely polarized.
And so it is. I tell all, no matter the consequences. Thrilling though it may be, sometimes, there is still more danger in this curse than amusement. And if I’m wise, I should get it in check before some lesser man takes advantage of the knowledge my patent face provides him. And I have a long history of lesser men flinging themselves into my orbit – also because I allowed them to get within flinging distance.
Sometime back, a certain someone put into words what I suspected all along. I get entangled with lesser men because I subconsciously battle with abandonment and acceptance. Touché.