I was back to my old tricks of guessing what reality is and then trying to make out that it isn’t a guess. I was back to my old tricks of acting confident when I’m not. Winging it. Blagging it. Trying to make out that I know what I’m doing. Going around sounding sure of myself when I’m not. The sure touch. The nonchalant manner. Exuding the ease that comes with absolute confidence. All that crap. I was back to my old tricks of bluffing, in other words. I’m bluffing now, if I were to be perfectly confident about it. I’m trying to make out that I know what I’m talking about when I don’t. The very fact that I am saying anything is indicative of false confidence – it implies that I have some sort of a grasp of what the underlying reality to all this is and I don’t. The truth is that I haven’t a clue. The truth is that I am totally clueless. I am frighteningly lost. I’m terribly, terribly lost and at the same time I am desperately trying to pretend – both to myself and everyone else – that I know what’s going on. I know that people get awfully fed up when I talk like this. People quickly run out of patience with me. “Why do you always have to be so negative?” they ask. “Can’t you ever come out with some upbeat stuff instead all this depressing shit?” Well no one actually does say that to me. I just imagine that they would say that if I got to talk to them and tell them about what’s going on for me. That never happens, though. People get put off talking to me way before I ever get a chance come out with my spiel – they don’t want to know. I really do want to go up to people to ask them if they can relate to the type of existential anguish that I am daily afflicted with. The type of anguish that I have just been telling you about. The type of anguish where you are totally at sea, completely clueless and yet are far too frightened to ever admit this to either yourself or others. I kind of know what their response would be though – they would look at me with a mixture of contempt and incredulity and even though they wouldn’t say it they would be thinking that I am some kind of an extreme case of a fucked-up loser. They would get the ‘loser vibe’ from me. They’d smell it off me. I know that particular look well. I have had it many times. People are so cruel. They are both cruel and fundamentally dishonest. But all the same – even knowing this – I still feel the need to approach somebody – anybody – and tell them my story.