There is Hypocrisy About It

Hypocrisy ruled the day, and it ruled the years. And so much had been aimed at him that he believed it was all people knew anymore. So much had happened, had passed without address, without discussion, without resolutions. It was beyond disheartening.

She had believed the caricatures of him proffered by those with personal agendas, agendas to smear him to her. And they did so because she instigated them to, while she pretended to be his friend. The hypocrisy was stark, as she claimed that she felt sorry for him and did not want him to be a loner, as she did everything that would guarantee he was ostracized. It was also hypocritical because, while she claimed to worry about him having friends, she did not actually have any, only a tribal affiliation that used her to pawn off their venom.

She had believed characterizations of him from people who were borderline insane, if not truly insane by circumstance. The one who had, for no apparent reason whatsoever, labeled him a political enemy, when he’d had no political side, and accused him of having said he wanted people like her dead, which he had never uttered nor implied, was now part of a movement that, assuredly, would not hesitate to murder or imprison anyone who disagreed with them, if they got their dirty, insane hands on that power. The hypocrisy was stark.

There was so much hypocrisy that it was difficult to put much of it into words. Once, when things had gone to pot, her doing in her duplicity, though she blamed him, she’d tried to pin a derogatory message sent to her on him, something about a pimp. What she had failed to realize, and didn’t care about, was that he had not sent it, and she, in her need for attention, had gone around collecting pity for it and, hence, had opened herself up to the hidden spite of someone she must have known. Whomever it was clearly jockeying to frame him for it. A letter of some sort was sent as well, with, he guessed, similar intentions, although he’d never seen it. The hypocrisy, however, lied in the fact that she was so put off by the idea of a pimp. Though she would never admit it, she searched for that exact power dynamic for a relationship, a sugar daddy, what she would call a “husband.” The ring and paper did nothing to change the dynamic, and it was precisely the same thing.

Then there was his hypocrisy. For, though he had loved her and never wanted to hurt her, he was so desperate to get into her head that he did some stupid things, one of which opened him up to accusation about the “pimp” message he had not sent. And, after finding out about it, he sought to correct his errors.

But her hypocrisy outweighed his, as he let her go. She had intimated that she wanted him to, but, when he did, she would not leave him alone. And yet, even more hypocritically, she pretended that she did want him to leave her alone at the same time, and continued to claim it, even after she went to him, even after she decided to lie, after she sent him a gift a year and half later, and after she tried to have someone contact him. She had flirted with him, and she knew it. But her hypocrisy was rife, and it made her an even bigger hypocrite with her claims of self-righteousness in her belief in god and goodness, which she did not follow. She’d acted as if she’d wanted him, then acted as if she didn’t, then back again, and back again.

And her bigger hypocrisy, though similar to what she’d done to him, was to claim that her ex was a psycho, then turn around and allow herself to be courted by those just like him. That was a hypocrisy based in self-loathing and, hypocritically again, greedy ego.

But the grandest hypocrisy was owing him a debt and having no intention of meeting it, while calling herself a good person. That could never be lived down.

Hypocrisy was all he could see now, from everyone, from every corner.