Gestures and Lies

How did this happen?

How did I go to sleep one man and wake up another?

How did I earn this suspicion in my wife’s eyes, when I swore I never would? How did I manage that? Who is this guy my kids are talking to like he knows anything? I wouldn’t trust that guy. I’m not sure they trust that guy either, and good. I'm glad. Look at him. That guy with his face falling apart day by day, working its way from the hair down or from the chin up, makes no difference. Either way, any sane person would walk the other way. Where's the money gone, while we're at it? How the hell did it ever come to this?

Why do my students shoot glances across the room at each other all of a sudden whenever I grab my nose in confusion? Arched eyebrows, smirks, the whole nine yards. They never used to do that. Since when did that start happening? How did I end up with students anyway? Who are these kids? I have no business with these kids. I have no business teaching. Why should they believe a word I say? I don’t believe a word I say. Even my gestures are lies.

Why do I have a phone all of a sudden, when I swore I never would? Why do I have all these books? I’m never going to read all these books. A fire would be useful, something quick, precise and total. What’s with all these pens out of ink, spilling out of every coat pocket? What's with all these notebooks, when every one stops on the 10th page?

When am I ever going to wear these clothes I buy in unexpected rushes of vanity and blindness? Look at these clothes, what an assortment. What even exactly am I waiting for, a barn dance or a night at the Oscars? Some lecture at the Sorbonne where they can all applaud my integrity? Who am I kidding?

Make up your mind, you're a grown man. Make up your mind.

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