As a friend once told me: “write about what you know”. That’s when I started thinking…
What the heck do I really know?
What is that thing I have and no one else does?
I came across plenty of variations which all came to the same conclusion, I’m good at writing. Yet I couldn’t write about writing. I know about sex, and well, I could definitively talk about that but then again… What do I really and truly know?
What about my sarcasm and actual facts?
What about my knowledge of all things true?
What about my knowledge itself?
It has been said that a true writer is a scientist,
and a good scientist goes about facts,
and that facts come from knowledge,
and that knowledge comes from research,
and that research comes from experience,
and that experience from actions,
and actions from thoughts,
and thoughts from ideas,
and ideas from socializations…
In the end, I came back to the same question: What do I really know?
And in short words I reply: too much.
I know what you do once you go home and what you do when you’re not.
I know who you see and who you pretend you don’t.
I know the lies you tell and the ones you hide.
I know what you prefer and what you detest.
I know how deep your love runs and how vast your life will flow.
I know you bleed slowly because I’ve seen it run.
I know how slow you will catch me when I fall on the ground.
I know your reactions and moans to perfection.
I know your every move, your every look, your every sound, your every touch.
It’s the same repetitive act, the same routine, the same game.
I know it’s all the same thought because it was the same with me.
I know your secrets and your wishes.
I know what you don’t want to say because it will hurt.
I also know the details and grooves of every action you take.
Perhaps, I know too much.
I can tell you everything I know, teach you how I know, show you with your very eyes what I saw and make you feel what I felt. I can do the same so you have the very same knowledge I do.
I know the lies you are telling.
That you want to be loved so bad that you will say anything to get that.
I know it will only last you 6 months, maybe less.
I know you hype others in order to believe your stories.
You accuse and abuse the trust that was given to you.
You set the innocent in order to gain the weak.
Apparently, and according to other unreliable sources, I know more practical things as well.
I know how to turn others against you.
I know how to lie.
I know how to deceive and how to manipulate.
According to others I know how to hack and how to steal.
I know how to avoid cameras at a secured parking lot just to trash others property.
According to you, that’s what I know, and to be honest… I truly don’t.
In the end, what you think you may know about me directly, is misjudged and misplaced. Look at the intricate stories which have been told time after time. Pathetic the man or woman who lives their life to hurt themselves and others!
Now that I truly know you; I know some things others may not know at all.
I know your obsession.
I know your madness.
I know what’s in your head.
I know how you think, how you react.
I know the jealousy that ran through you every time you were not wanted around.
I know of the times you would call and the call wasn’t answered.
I know what was said about you and how you’re being lied to now.
I know of your fake appearances, your disguise.
I know and see through your insinuations and the stories you make up.
What you don’t know… is what I know. I know too much.
That’s perhaps my biggest fault, yet it’s also one of my greatest accomplishments. You can judge me, for I don’t care. Never did. Still don’t. Yet now you will wonder, what else do I know, about you?
The answer? Everything.
I just don’t kiss and tell.