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It’s 3 AM and I’m awake. I tell her I’m sorry, and that I love her, but that I have to go home. Then I drop her hand and walk out the front door. If we didn’t stop now, we’d destroy everything.

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I judge people based on their footwear.

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But here is my secret: I am a liar too. Or I was, for much of my life. I remember the moment when I realized that I had a hand in what type of reality another would live by. That I could carve out my own secret nook beneath others’ expectations and exist in that delicious, sovereign space.

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We all have that one tone-deaf peasant on our news feed who spends their time posting upwards of 10 posts a day, on topics ranging from idiotic political arguments to YouTube videos of songs that no one wants to listen to.