napoleongonewrong:

Do you remember how many times?

I don’t suppose you kept track…

Of every single time you’ve looked into my eyes, and for one split second, all you could feel was your heart skipping a beat in your chest; because for that moment — at the very least — you were fooled. You began to doubt.

Doubt the man hiding behind my eyes.

I know you did.

Even if you got better at hiding it as the years went by.

But you’d be lying if you tried to claim that it didn’t scare you, excite you, or freak you out to see it.

If I can convince you that I’m not the man you’ve known for so long, or at least put that glimmer of doubt in your mind, then I know I can convince just about anyone.

You’ve known me too long now, though. You’ve seen too many of my acts.

I can no longer pull off a full act for you. You could look at any personality I have to throw at you, and you’d know that it really wasn’t me, no matter how deep it ran in my eyes.

But it still terrifies you.

To think that the man you know, your boss, your lover, whatever you wish to call me, could possibly be someone you don’t know. Someone you don’t understand the way you think you do.

It’s because of that, though, that at this point, it all bleeds together for you.

Did you notice that?

You don’t even see it anymore…

You’ve forgotten how to see past any word.

I couldn’t walk up to you and say that my name was Peter or Charles, that I work in construction or even in a restaurant…

But I can tell you absolutely anything, and as long as I pair it with my own face, that dark look in my eyes, the one that’s been described as ‘the monster staring back from hell’…well, you’ll believe it.

If I wanted a long show, I could convince you that I love you.

You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

At least for a time.

Until you understood it was just a game, or until I got bored and gave away the truth.

I tell you that I want you dead, your skin across my wall, an elaborate decoration.

You’d believe that, too.

You see, my dear… You’ve become so conditioned to the idea of something huge and obvious that you can see that coming a mile away. But you’ve forgotten about the little things.

You’ve forgotten that every bit of me, no matter how small or big, is all just a thousand little bits constructed together.

Things that work. Things that make sense. Things that fit together.

So even if you do remember, even if you can count all the times you know I’ve fooled you, you’d still be wrong.