Thoughts From A Pathological Liar

I was once told that to be able to write you have to know everything about your topic. Well it is Anna here telling you, that if you know everything about a person, where is the mystery? We love gossip; I prefer facts, simply my opinion. I was also once told that to be able to explore the artistic ways of writing you have to explore the things around you, as many of my family members know I don’t get much sun. I prefer to be locked away inside my maroon colored room, some may say cave, dad. I however disagree fully, being locked away isn’t about solace or seclusion, it’s about being with yourself. How could you possibly allow yourself to think with the overwhelming insanity the world is today? Now don’t get me wrong this world is magical, bright, everything is amazingly beautiful but somehow I find it better to be locked away in my bedroom. Why is that? I haven’t the slightest clue. I love being outside experiencing everything with my own eyes. So As I sit here by the back green gate outside my grandparents’ house I figure out something, you don’t have to travel thousands of miles to see beauty, it is right before your eyes you simply have to open them.

I was watching a Disney Channel movie before coming out here Harriet The Spy: Blog Wars. Many things in my life seem to inspire me, the smallest things, such as right now for example it is five-thirty-one p.m. and we just got done with eating dinner, I was fully prepared to sit out in the porch, stretched out in the recliner watching a movie yet for some reason the unexpected happened and I am outside watching a tiny little spider walk over the grey cracked cement, it’s funny how little things, the things other people would have normally missed are the things I see. He vanishes, the spider, blending into the multi colored cement as if a chameleon. Fascinating to some, unimportant to others, to me it is…different. Something people miss everyday, things that get walked over or misplaced because they are unimportant. They are things that were once grand, but suddenly they seem to fall flat on the scale of ‘what’s hot’. When I went to school, the tradition high school, I had everything I thought I had wanted back then, I was perfectly happy lying to get what I want, it is said that in a pathological liar smirks as he fools a group of people, because it is attention he seeks, many you can tell the deception from the look in there eyes. True lairs, the ones who enjoy it, enjoy it simply because they like the feeling of being able to fool something. It is a game and nothing more.

I am facing a brown wall that has two windows both maroon rimmed with white painting on the inside. You can look right through them, into they’re kitchen, you can see the white dusty ceiling fan, the white decretive pot that sits of the window ceil with shapes of pears on it. I have noticed this wall, maybe a thousand times, it is unimportant, not worth noticing to some, but for me it is the things that go unnoticed that hold the true magic in this world. Why hide things if they aren’t important? My neighbors, or my grandparents’ neighbors have red bricks piled high with white cement that which creates a wall, so to speak you can tell it was a fast sloppy job by the why the cement drips down the sides of the red bricks, as if they didn’t care enough to smooth it out, however one moment of indifference to a thing that sounded fun at a time but no longer holds the fascination it once did would result in looking at the brick work forever. Funny, how one thing could mean so much at one point and then nothing at another.

When I was a child I use to play with my brother and our next-door neighbor, this was when we still lived in our first house; it was perfect. We had two bunnies throughout our stay at Nipomo Ave. and a tree house, giant and huge. Not only that but a skate ramp that my father built with my brother, we had a metal rusty sing seat and on my seventh birthday I listened to N’sync and swung back and forth. Memories from my childhood are lost to me until I take the time to really remember them, sometimes I think back and remember things I had long forgotten and I wonder did they really even happen at all? It’s unbelievably ho much you can miss when you aren’t really paying attention.


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