The Art of Deception

 

I have deceiving looks. Don’t all of us have? We deceive others, almost every day of our lives. We fake smiles when we are blanketed by an avalanche of mundane thoughts, and worries of our lives.

The other day, I was in tears, and suddenly a cousin called, asking me about my typical diet plans. We spoke for an hour. For a second, he didn’t come to know that I am not okay. That’s deceiving of a kind and it’s an art.

Painstakingly, I removed the heaviness from my voice, my irritable mood, and gathered my thoughts to address the way I always do, with zeal and enthusiasm.

I have learned to deceive. I have been learning it forever now. To say, I am okay, when I am at the worst is a habit now. I drive to work engrossed in a million thoughts, and as I reach office, I start with pleasurable smiles on my face, bright flashes of hi and hello and so on.

How was my weekend? Oh, it sucked, but all I say is- hey I totally rocked it, watched everything possible on Netflix, ate what I loved, and so on.

I keep losing myself in a preoccupied mind every single second, but I deceive and pretend to completely participate in any discussion at work.

A little personal, but my toilet seat is my thinking pad. I don’t deceive there. I think original and talk in my head the way I should to every possible voice around me. I reply to those who think too little of me or too much of me. I deal with all the insecurities in the most concocted ways.

Basically, deception is for others, and in a way it’s mandatory. Because, if am an original in my own ways, the world would suck. No one likes bitter comebacks, raw behavior, and heedless gestures. I like to deceive and I will go on, no matter how spurious I feel within.

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