complacency (n.): a feeling of quiet pleasure or security, often while unaware of a potential danger, defect, or the like
Either one of these words could describe life right now. On the surface, you might think that everything is alright. I can put on quite a show, and you will never know the difference. After twenty-four years of putting up a facade, I've become quite the professional. Ask me how I'm doing, I'll tell you I'm doing okay. I won't tell you I'm fine or even great, because I know that's a stretch. But if you watch me in day-to-day life, it looks like everything really is okay. What you don't know is that my heart is simmering with a deep ache, a pain I can't describe most days. Where the pain comes from, I can't really explain. It's a combination of a lot of different things: Graduation. The job search...in this economy. Church, God, faith. My story. Harboring bitterness versus extending forgiveness to a person in my past. Loneliness.
Bebe.
Bebe.
Bebe.
There is just so much, and it's all swirling below the surface. Somehow, I find the facade much more comforting. I am the world's best actress, even though I will never star in a TV show or movie. You will never hear my name mentioned in the Academy Awards, nor will I ever win a Golden Globe. But I am an actress, you just haven't realized it yet.
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