I’m in too deep.
I’m starting to believe my lies.
This might sound like the start of a Linkin Park song, but it’s all too real.
I’m at a point in a relationship where I feel like an undercover cop who is so good at his job and has been embedded so long that he starts to truly absorb his alias. While that’s a good problem to have as an undercover cop, it’s not ideal for a Modern Man.
I brought up this subject with a friend and she asked, “Is your alias someone who wants to be with her? Or is your alias the guy she wants you to be?”
I told her, “They’re one in the same.”
She responded with, “How long do you believe your own lies before you reclaim you?”
Another great question, to which I replied, “Until they eat me. I feel trapped.”
I don’t know another way to put it, because that’s the truth.
These past three months have been utter hell.
It’s like I’m that undercover cop.
Better yet, I feel like I’m in “Saw.” You know that movie with the tagline, “You wanna play a game?” The one where a few people are trapped in a room and they have to do gruesome things to get out, like cut off a limb with a dull butterknife to get to a key.
I don’t have any appendages left.
I discarded them to be a better cop. To be a better chameleon.
The only things remaining are what makes me a man.
It’s time to become Wolverine.
I’ll be damned if I castrate myself.