I Have Pretended To Be Mentally の小説・ストーリー

I feel sick in the stomach when I think about it. I have no identity here. I'll be just dressed up puppet beside him whom he controls the way he wants. "I don't know!" I answered. "Just don't wear your real expression... You have to fake it" She patted my back and walked away. God! What I have got myself into.

I felt like the room was spinning. “It isn’t a trick. I have a part to play, that’s all.” He was pleading with me almost and I knew I couldn’t even have a private thought about any of it. No matter what I thought, he would know every single word. In the light of his revelation, his ability seemed much more intrusive than it had before. “You mean the part where you pretended to be a good person. You kidnapped me and tied me to a bed, for fuck’s sake.” I knew I shouldn’t be shouting at him, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was too infuriated to play the part I should have been playing.

It makes everything easier. The truth is that I pretend to be crazy most of the time, whenever I can, about my most serious problems. It works so I don’t go crazy because, in my current situation, the last thing I need is a mental illness as a bonus. I do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen. I need to be well to take care of who needs me. "Thank you for coming." Turning to the door, waking from the lethargic state in which I was after good minutes watching my mother sleep peacefully, and open a weak smile to my father. "Have you eaten?"

"Well, let's say ... you can pretend to have a dementia." "W-what?"

I giggled, “But your turn.” “When I was a pup, I used to think that I was a superhero. Emmet was always getting hurt, but not me. I would do the same thing, or so I thought, as him, and I’d always come out scratch free. Turns out,” he shook head, reminiscing, “I’d fabricated the entire thing. If he jumped out of a tree, I’d leap off the ground, pretending I was in the tree. If he raced on a dirt bike, I’d jog through the yard, pretending it was all the same. My imagination ran wild, and I’d convinced myself that I’d done everything he had, just better," he huffed out a laugh, "Made for some harsh realities when I got older." “Hiding from the truth,” I feigned shock, “Not you.”

I often drink alone to forget and to numb myself. After a while, I quickly changed my clothes when I went inside my room. Wearing a short and a white top, I scanned myself in the mirror. I smiled at the frame. My bob cut hair was starting to get long. I was petite physically and white in complexion. Some said, I looked like a teen but I was actually twenty-eight years old. Who would have thought that after all I got through, I haven't turned into a crazy, lunatic woman? After all my suffering, I still took care of myself. I was good at everything. And maybe, I already mastered the act of pretending.

He had his long hair combed back and fastened at the back. “No, just nervous. They’re going to see right through us.” They were going to see I didn’t belong with them. James scoffed and pulled me closer to him. “Fake it till you make it Sugar. Besides, if you follow my lead, I promise you they will not care. Maybe it will give them something to talk about other than their own boring little lives.” He pecked a kiss on my temple. “Let’s give them a show, my little sugar dumpling.”

He says and i roll my eyes "It turns out Angela was only faking her so called pregnancy " i tell him and he chokes on his drink "Faking as in pretending?! Like she wasn’t pregnant?!" He says and i nod again, signaling for another drink to which Judy nods in response "Yes man, she was only pretending to be pregnant " i say and he chuckles “You know, i knew she was mentally unstable but I wasn’t expecting this kind of craziness “ he says and i laughed

Alec looks at me nodding his head. “He lost his mind, he is sick”, Alec says and I nod my head, seeing Paul sitting there, emotionless, his eyes almost closed as if he was drugged. Our lawyer said that he was under psychiatric evaluation and he was diagnosed with schizophrenia, that explained a lot about his delusional thoughts and everything that he did. I feel bad that he is sick, but I never want to see his face ever again. Medicated or not, I don’t want him in my life, I want him far away form my husband and my children.

But he just sat there, acting as if none of it mattered. "It's fine," I heard myself say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. Alex nodded, already moving on. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, you were telling me about that fashion show in Paris..." As he continued talking, his voice washed over me. I nodded at the right moments, smiled when expected, but inside, doubts swirled. What was I doing here? What were we, really? And how long could I keep pretending that being Alex Russo's "friend" was enough?