P for Pretending
I don't like to pretend. I never did. One may wonder why is it that the best Pretender that ever lived – as far as they'd told me, it's not arrogance, it's the honest truth – doesn't like to do what he does naturally best. The answer is quite simple: just because you're good at doing something, doesn't mean you have to like it.
I'd like to be something else other than a Pretender, a regular guy with a regular job. The problem is, I don't know what I'd do if I had a chance to choose something permanent. Occasionally, when I initiate a pretend, I think to myself, This is a job I wouldn't mind doing more often. Then that feeling disappears and I move on to something new. Being able to be anything you want doesn't help you when you don't know who you want to be when all the facades are gone.
Underneath the surface, closer to the core, who am I for real? Fireman, accountant, mobster, ice-truck man, butcher, gardener, lawyer, zoologist, police, doctor, hostage negotiator, architect, photographer, reporter, hit-man. I've been so many people since I started doing this, but I was never given a chance to decide; no one ever asked me who was I for real, who I really wanted to be.
Fortunately, or not, I'm not alone on this. I know for a fact that the people chasing me – Miss Parker, Sydney, Broots, even Sam –, they all pretend to be something they're not. We all wear masks, some more attached than others, to hide our true nature. Like the saying says, It takes one to know one. Beneath the ice, the calm demeanor, the nervousness, the chilling look, I know who they really are. Lucky for me, they don't know who I am. If they did, they'd probably caught me by now.