It had all started with a name.
Shawn.
Actually that's a complete lie. It started with 'Diner Guy' and 'The Girl Who Stole My Seat'. Funny where we are now.
I still can't believe he's not really psychic. He seemed so genuine. I really should have known better. I hate him.
No, that's another lie. I don't hate him. I love him.
I hate his lie.
I love him; I hate his lie.
I never even realized how hard you can fall for someone. I tried to deny the attraction. Telling myself it was unprofessional and that he was, in a way, off limits. But fate had different plans.
We both fell hard. Hard enough to dent the ground. Now that ground was falling; crumbling away. We unknowingly build our trust in each other off the fact that he was psychic. Psychic my ass. What reason would he have to lie about that? If it wasn't true and he loved me, he would tell me the truth.
But he didn't.
Shawn Spencer, Psychic Detective for the Santa Barbara Police Department, isn't psychic.
That's the truth but maybe not the whole thing.
Shawn Spencer, Psychic Detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department, lied to me about being psychic and I lov-hate him for it.
No, I can't do it. I do love him. That's the truth but he knows the value of honesty to me. He knows honesty is one of my number one values. And yet he still lied.
I keep skirting around the main point. I'm rambling in my own thoughts. Let's try this again.
Shawn, to strangers, is just a name. To me, that name means a million things. Love. Hate. Happiness. Despair. Fun. Boredom. Pride. Disappointment.
Notice how contradictory all those words are to each other. For example, pride and disappointment are antonyms, opposites. But they mingle together in my current thoughts of Shawn. Pride in how he grew up enough to love and be with me. Disappointment in his dishonesty and breaking my trust.
Shawn has disappointed more people in his life than he can count. Even temporarily. I wonder how he will take my disappointment?
I hate Shawn Spencer.
And I love Shawn Spencer.