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Sometimes I wonder if there are people who truly enjoy parties. I know there must be; people wouldn’t throw them otherwise. But at some point in every party I’ve been to, a sense of misery always seems to settle over it. As if everyone is trying desperately to convince everyone else that they’re having fun, while on the inside, they’re counting down the minutes until they can leave.
“Because no one who lives honestly is perfect all the time. Those perfect people? They’re often living a lie. A tidy public persona to hide behind.”
“Because no one who lives honestly is perfect all the time. Those perfect people? They’re often living a lie. A tidy public persona to hide behind.”
