Denial. It is what is everyone has in common. For it would may be the biggest denial to deny the presence of the denial in our actions, words, feelings...

I am not sitting down in a single table, there are many images in my pupils. Lots of smiles, lots of faces, lots of eyes. I am not wearing headphones, there are many voices in my ears. Lots of words, lots of sounds, lots of songs. I am not mummified, there are many feelings on my skin. Lots of touches, lots of kisses, lots of hugs. And, I am not hiding my heart in a coffer, neither. Yet, it is cold. Those smiles, looks, voices, touches of whose feelings I don't feel in my heart; but all, the lot, each have their own seats in the hall of my life. So, after all, why do I consider myself as an honest one? Why do I seem like a big defender of reliability, ,if I can live with what I don't feel, if I can live with at what I can't smile? And most of all, why... if I can live with the lies I tell to myself? Esepcially, when I know that "the worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in a denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we are afraid."