Sometimes I pretend to be just a little bit dumb. It makes me feel normal for a minute. It makes me feel cute and whimsical, instead of cynical and abrasive. When you already know what the outcome is going to be, feigned ignorance is a reprieve. More than that, it’s a welcomed panacea against the ongoing war I wage in the catacombs of my mind, detaching me from my knowledge of the Big Lie and other inevitable horrors in a way that feels bearable. Besides… boys like it. They like it when you don't know as much as they do. They like it when you're bouncy. Forget that I was reading books on the Russian Revolution when I was 10. Forget that I always had a strong sense of justice, and a sharp disdain for those who perpetuate suffering and oppression. Forget that I always asked the tough questions. My younger self had more resolve. She’d idealize her role in changing the course of things. My wiser self knows better, and aches all the more because of it.
The truth is, sometimes I just want to be pretty. It doesn't hurt so much.