The question seeking an answer asked us to sit down to explain. They don’t ask it that way, but it’s pretty much what they want to know. Some of them. The others prefer you to find a way to express what’s so special about them. Either way, it’s the exact same show, different monologue.
Dark was the only word that came to mind, but nothing came from mouth.
“We’re dark, preternaturally so, and though it sounds negative, it will in all likelihood serve you well,” but this thought never made it to air space either.
Everything passes through lens of suspicion, and from there, very little gets past without explanation.
By the time these thoughts crossed road, the speaker gave up on my answering and moved to the next question.
How do I know where I fit?
That was easy.
In places and with people making conscious efforts to climb out of darkness, no matter how deep the well, how many times they’ve fallen to the bottom, or how bruised and weak their reach for a solid grip into reality’s slippery substance might be.
But no. That would make me sound psychotic, so I didn’t say that either.
Instead, I said something about driving revenue, while laughing in my head in wonder that it might be a stick shift, a something I’ve yet to learn.
And no. They didn’t hire me.
A lie spoken out loud isn’t necessarily intended to hide a devious nature; sometimes it’s to protect a sensitive one. In both cases, it makes the question and answer uncomfortable, and for the most part, I work with people okay spending a great deal of time in that space; pleasure, pride, and guilty discomfort.
That’s just about everyone, but only a handful will admit a well even exists.
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