What It Seems

Honest: Being what it seems; genuine; pure.

I heard a lead a few nights ago from a young guy that I like and admire. He did a good job of keeping it real. I have more of a tendency to keep it fake. I want to paint a bullshit picture of myself that makes me look more impressive than I am so I can impress people that I don't know and couldn't care less about. I'm not someone whose life is grounded in reality so honest people help to anchor me in the real world or at least somewhere in the vicinity of the real world. My friend was direct and honest and hard on himself, but not brutal. Appropriately hard. We are whack jobs so we do well to call ourselves out when behavior is poor.


My problem -- one of many, no doubt -- is that I want to be the best at everything. When I share in front of a group I want to be the baddest ass drunk, the most profound recovery savant, and so fucking funny you'll wet your pants. I want to look out over a sea of admirers, heads nodding in unison, amazed at my wisdom. So what happens? I start to exaggerate, then I stretch the truth to the breaking point, and blast on through to outright lying. It's not enough to be me -- I need to be super me on steroids.


I heard this description of a man's drinking life not long ago: "I started to drink because it made me feel better. It got out of control quickly and I became a pathetic drunk." Then the guy talked about recovery. That about sums it up for me, too. I don't know how exciting I can make the stories of sitting in front of my TV, alone, drunk and stoned. It is not interesting.


I don't believe half the stuff I say.