Se todos fossem iguais a voce / If only everything were equal to you

"Are you working or killing time?"

"Working. Trying to. But I don't know anything... I just conned everyone into thinking I'm smart."

"Oh you are smart. It's just that you can't get yourself to actually care.  And if you don't, you have trouble employing all your brain in it."

"Thanks for your habit of just putting your finger on it."

"This is precisely where you fooled people: into thinking you care."

"I'm still a con-woman then."

"Yes."

Man on the Side

Mr. Six posted that and I suspect it is for me.  Now I feel guilty and insecure and confused and mashed, as the foundations of a defense that I've built over the past two something years since we ended our relationship are struck by little canon balls called The Other Side Of The Story.

Update: If I would just wise-up, I might realize that a relationship would not work in the end if a girl had to dampen her enthusiasm for life so that the boy would not feel left out and marginalized.  The problem is that I have been raised to feel slightly guilty about being so enthusiastic.