In truth, one must have strength,
one must have grit, one must not give in—not a single inch in this
vastness, in this soulless world;
not even in those moments
when we feel down,
when we feel alone and without anyone,
when despair strikes us
and anguish seizes us.
No, we must not yield,
not even when death
looks us in the eyes,
intimidates or tempts us.
Never—never should we show weakness,
not even when we feel weak
or when our strength fades.
Pretend—pretend you are not alone,
that you do not falter,
that you are immune to all of it;
even if your pretending is itself pretend—pretend.
Pretend, because this world is a pretense,
and knowing how to pretend is to be strong,
to be much, to be everything,
to win.
Pretend,
pretend you have many friends,
even knowing they are nothing more
than mere flatterers
who follow you while you have strength,
wherever you go—
because once you lose it,
and stop pretending, they will leave,
seeking another pretender,
one who pretends better,
one who offers them what they want
but dare not admit,
one who promises what you do not,
one who promises and pretends better.
Wretched pretending!
Pretend—pretend to be mad,
pretend the madness of the mad—
for mad are those who are not,
those who do not pretend.
Smile—smile even if your smile isn’t real,
but smile, always.
Oh! feigned truth, how vile you are,
but there is no other,
so pretend—pretend as well.
Pretend it is truth.

Excerpt From
Perpetual Questioning
J.F. Barão
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