I Know Who You Are

by Alice Feeney

Sometimes it’s the people who love us the most that hurt us the hardest; because they can.

Ever since I was a child, I have preferred to inhabit the fictional lives of others, hiding in stories that have happier endings than my own; we are what we read.

Not everybody wants to be somebody. Some people just want to be somebody else.

I built my prison in the way that people often do, with solid walls made from bricks of guilt and obligation.

My husband gradually reorganized my life when we first met, criticizing my friends and obliterating my trust in all of them, until we were all we had left.

Thinking I’d just accept his choices as my own was foolish. But I’m good at pretending. I’ve made a living out of it. Papering over the cracks doesn’t mean they’re not there, but life is prettier when you do.

I only stop when I reach the coffee shop, exhausted by my own bad habits: insomnia and running away from my problems.

Ignorance isn’t bliss; it’s fear postponed to a later date. I stop outside the bank and allow the cash machine to swallow my card, before entering my PIN and requesting a small amount of money. I read the unfamiliar and unexpected words on the screen twice: SORRY. INSUFFICIENT FUNDS AVAILABLE.

Sometimes it only takes one person to believe in you to change your life forever. Sometimes it only takes one person not believing in you to destroy it. Humans are a highly sensitive species.

We are all conditioned and fine-tuned to our own unique brand of normal; we wear it like a fingerprint. We’re taught to fit in with others and learn what is expected of us from the moment we are born. Everything we ever do is an act.

We’ve all got so busy staring down at our screens that we’ve forgotten to look up at the stars. I think it can be dangerous to spend too long watching the lives of others; you might run out of time to live your own. Technology is devolving the human race. Eating up our emotional intelligence, spitting out any remnants of privacy it can’t quite swallow. The world will keep on spinning and the stars will always shine, regardless of whether anyone is looking.

Anxiety changes my relationship with food and drink; it comes between me and food, forcing me closer to alcohol. I know I need to slow down, but sometimes the advice we give ourselves is the hardest to hear. The barman looks surprised to see me again so soon. I tell him this glass is for my friend, and he nods politely. My acting skills are clearly fooling nobody tonight.