Truths and lies. Lies and truths. Everyone has a tell. A shift in their seat, a crack in their voice, a constant tic. The steady ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum of a heartbeat turns into a flurry of punches that threatens to break skin. BS, I think and keep captive behind my tongue as your tell ricochets through me like a bouncy ball. Are you really lying or just using psychological warfare? But mind games don’t work on me when I’ve become a master at picking apart the nuances. I am not just a specialist on your tells, but I am an expert at observing. The quietest one in the room is a title that often falls on my shoulders. Some think it’s because I am shy, but it is really because I am absorbing. “Put a bubble around yourself.” My mom’s words ring in my ears persistently in an attempt to teach me not to soak up others’ gunk. I crave the energy and emotions of those around me like it’s a drug. Like it’s the very air I need to breathe. An empath to my very core. But empathy and compassion don’t factor in a lie. A bright light filled with hope and dampened by that which seeks to destroy. Common sense is the thief of hope. Proof beyond a reasonable doubt. Evidence eliminates doubt based on reason. And innocent until proven guilty. But how tedious it is to prove guilt when the reasonable doubt is common sense. So I pick apart your tells, the nuances, and the cracks in your story as my only true coping mechanism: observation, protects me like a superpower.
The art of observing not absorbing.