a little bit of black with a little bit of pink

Eighty days, part 3

One week and six days earlier...

Here's a question to ponder: what if something wrong feels really right? What do you do?

One week and five days earlier...

Honestly, I guess it depends. If this is your way of telling me you're a bank robber or something, I'd say you should retire and find something else to do with your life. If you're being more general, then I'd ask what makes you think it's wrong.

One week and four days earlier...

When does being guarded fall into the territory of being dishonest? Where do you draw the line, the distinction, between those two concepts? See, I'm no bank robber (honestly though, it's maybe a career choice I should look into, it'd probably be lucrative), I'm just a liar.

I don't want to be. God, I really don't. I wish I wasn't this person, that I could go back to when I wasn't like this. I just... I don't know. It's wrong, I know what I'm doing is wrong, that it's certainly not fair, but I'm afraid of losing this one good thing in my life if I admit the truth. I have no clue what to do, and I'm worried I'll keep pushing the moment I have to come clean back for so long that when it finally does happen, I'll be worse than a liar. So tell me. What do I do?

One week and three days earlier...

I don't know your situation, but I understand your fear. Sometimes the truth is painful, sometimes it's something that you don't want to deal with. I can understand the urge to flee, to run away and hide. But here's the rub: hiding from the truth, whatever that truth might be, isn't possible—eventually, it catches up to you, forces you to confront it.

I don't know if there's an easy distinction to be made between being guarded and being dishonest. After all, closing parts of yourself off—hiding who you are—is a form of dishonesty. That said, I don't think you should worry about admitting the truth. Take it from someone who knows: no matter what sort of mask you've got on, there are some people in this world who'll see right through you and stick by you regardless, and those people are the ones who matter.

I don't know what you should do. My best advice would be to trust your gut.

One week and two days earlier...

Rosé chewed the pen's cap, brows furrowed in concentration, one hand tapping idly against her coffee cup, the other furiously scribbling notes. Lisa watched her for a moment, debating whether or not it would be worth it to break her concentration by asking if she wanted more coffee, then sighed, turning to look at the bulletin board behind her. Her reply had gone unanswered, which was fine. Absolutely fine. Glaring a little at the board, she wasn't quite sure why she sounded so unconvincing to her own ears.

She turned when she heard Jisoo approach, not liking the grin on her face as she stepped up to their table and leaned on it, propped up on her elbows.

"So, how are my two favorite customers?"

"Waiting on their coffee refills," Rosé replied curtly, not looking up from her work.

"She's working on a case," Lisa explained, shrugging when Jisoo seemed rather offended that Rosé wasn't going to apologize. "She's just stressed."

"I wouldn't be so stressed if you actually helped."

"What? Lisa, you're a lawyer?"

"No, not really."

"Not really?" Rosé looked up, spitting out the pen cap, much to both Lisa and Jisoo's utter disgust. "You went to law school, didn't you? Passed the bar? What do you mean, 'not really?'"