I understand how my neurons feel.
Because I’m getting tired of doing this same thing over and over again, too.
I tripped on the rug and fell.
I’ve been repeating this lie for an hour again, trying it with different accents and inflections and points of emphasis, until it sounds natural and nonchalant in a way that won’t raise any red flags.
It’s not just that I’m tired of, though. It’s this whole routine. The anger. The argument. The blow. The apologies that follow.
And then the lies that follow that, one after the other, so many of them that I start to lose track of where the lies stop and the truth begins.
I do know where this most recent downward spiral began, though.
It started the night I came home from Khaza.
Raymond was waiting for me. It was like something straight out of t
