Half the truth.

I like talking to strangers. Maybe I even find it comforting. They cannot judge you, because they have no idea who you are, who you were, what you did or what your past was like. They see a blank slate. They can only wonder as much. 


They have no idea that you hate kids, or that you do not believe in a God, or you had your heart broken far too many times. They do not know what made you who you are at the moment, or the fact that you can lie. What they hear from you is only half the truth and they'll either believe that or they don't. Sometimes they just listen or appear to be listening and agree with whatever it is that you say because they don't care. Sometimes you just want someone to listen, sometimes you just want someone who will agree with you because everyone else doesn't seem to.


And after you walk away from them, you're forgotten: Your face, the clothes that you wear and sometimes even what you said. Maybe you will linger for a bit in their head. They'll imagine who you are and what happened to you, then it stops. You stop existing to them the moment you go on your way. To them you're just another stranger.posted from Bloggeroid>