She married the man who stole her virginity.
She drove him to jail so he wouldn’t be embarrassed as he faced rape charges, so
she wouldn’t be embarrassed. She did this with her little girl still inside her ... to save face. She never cried.
She left her homeland to escape motherhood; borrowed money to pay gangsters for a marriage, a chance at a new life. She never lived with her second husband.
Her first marriage lasted seven months.
She spent years in the US heartland learning english from christians, auto mechanics, the courteous and elderly.
Gangsters skip town, stop paying the husband who refused to file a petition for her daughter. She would divorce before she could complete the final step in reuniting with her daughter.
Everything seemed to be working.
She took a job at the Liar's Club. She would improve her skills, payoff her bills and count her kills.
A rookie, she fell prey to someone whose game was better than hers.
The people around her, her teammates, the ones she would call 'friends' knew how foolish, how naive, she was. But liar's don't make noise about liars. They watched coldly as she stumbled. They encouraged her to learn the game.
Liars can’t make friends with non-liars. They can only have ‘relationships’ with them. They can seduce those who are not like them. Only in the absence of trust can they hope to find life. Psychic Vampires.
The man who lied to her was married to a veteran of the Liar’s Club. Liars breed incestuously for job security. It's natural selection.
She tried to run away ... but found her path of least resistance to be familiarity. Habit. The drug was working.
Her vision became clearer, literally and figuatively. She returned to the Liar's Club with a vengeance, doing things that were at one time beyond her moral ambivalence. They were quickly and easily assimilated into a new and rigid code.
She met a man. A man who would be true, a man who offered her a fading, blurred vision of her rotting dream. She said "You can't handle the truth!" because she couldn’t. She dismissed it.
She changed departments frequently within the Liar's Club, looking for a comfortable fit, a shield from the gaze of sunlight and truth. Comfortable anonymity.
She was invisible and invincible. She would passively, without remorse, shame, or guilt, take a job at Division OA, owned and operated by the lying, and lied to, wife of the man who seduced her, who lied to her, who fucked her without protection ... literally, figuratively, emotionally and physically.
Frankenstein balls. A monster of deceit. The victory was not in lying but in making it meaningless, like a serial murderer. Beyond good and evil.
She will leave. She has left. She will die. She’s finished her ‘relationship’ with the liar ... [because] now they are friends, bloodless partners in crime. She can lie to him as well as he lies to her. She came, she saw, she learned, she conquered.
Liars make friends with liars. They call them
true friends. They think people who lie to them are being nice because it is all they know ... like flies on shit. They can never feel pain or remorse for lying, for hurting. To do so would be failure. Lying must be done unrepentantly.
She’s MIA from the Liar’s Club for a moment, but she will undoubtedly return. Maybe in another city, maybe in another relationship.
She’s MIA from her lover ....
She is mistaken.
Mistakes are forgivable, understandable. Human. All too human.
Guilt and deceit are cancer.
Some young christian girl "borrowed" this picture of Sunny (from an earlier post—two years ago!) to illustrate a poem about loss. I like it, except for the line about email. It rings weird.
