Blurry Road

This is the story of a liar and a cheat.

Trips I make are always for a reason tough I pretend and say they're for my own personal and solemn rejoice. I say I go alone but th etruth is I'm playing my cards, sometimes with a good hand, most of the times without a hand at all. All these hands are to see somebody, anybody. Her.

I had a bad hand this weekend and I knew it, but I still played and lost. I did it as if I knew I'd lose so I can say that I went there to be alone. A lie everyone else believes but me. I do try to convince myself but it rarely works. I was played this weekend and I was humiliated.

Humiliated? Played? By whom? By myself to be truthful. I love the places I go but I love them more with the right company, sometimes any company is fine.

The way I sleep in hotels has changed, some company taught me the risks o sleeping over the bed covers and sitting on the desk chairs. People still think of hotels as MOTELS, they enjoy the mirrors with their reflections using the desks to hold themselves up with their elbows and faces pressed against the mirror.

You can sometimes still see the greasy and sweaty impressions of their faces with an expression of pleasure and pain on the mirrors.

With chairs and bed covers you just have to watch for the stains. That is why most hotels have bed covers with very complex designs, makes it hard to see any kind of stain.

I lied about seeing someone there. I didn't see anyone except people unknown. All I saw was the cabin closed shut and no lights; foliage growing unattended almost covering the driveway. It was as silent as an empty house can be. The creaking wood was the only sign that house had life, but it wasn't you.

I cheated to get in the sad situation I'm in. I'm cheating to get out of it. I'm cheating to find some way to feel better.

It's unbelievable how with my poor eyesight I could still drive to that door.

I'll going back there soon. Lying or not, cheated or otherwise.