You know, I could lie. I could construct a façade so perfect no one would ever see through it. I could gather parasocial affections like flies on shit. I could convince people to hand me the keys to their kingdoms. I could have power and money and adoration. But I always self-sabotage it. I always choose truth. And the truth about it is I think I do it out of spite. To prove to myself I’m still real. To assail the omnipresent curated social lie with the unactionable rhetorical violence of truth.
by achrilock