Why Do We Americans Lie To Ourselves?

We’re all full of shit. You reading this and me too. We preach our truth and we think we’re the best. The weirdest part is that many of us are conscious enough to know that our mindsets are faux. Aware that we’ve been taught a false truth in Americanism, yet we still, deep down, think that we are invincible teenagers. We can avoid crashing the car, we can pull the prank, or we can bully the kid next to us without repercussions. We believe and, often, know that we can get away with it. We think, despite all facts in front of us, that we are always right one hundred percent of the time, but more often than not we are wrong.

So, why?

Is it the pro-American teachings of WWII or the Cold War? Probably. The drippings of those ideologies that perverted our current education system? Sure. The White-washing of United States’ history and the mainstream acceptance of it? Most definitely. The cis-male view on EVERYTHING? Absolutely.

But even more so, it’s us the individuals. I preach a lot of shit, yet in the back of my head, I still think myself impenetrable. Impervious to harm, rust, or fatigue. Sure I can cry. I can break down even. But nothing stops me. Gotta keep going forward. That’s Americanism. Though, that is a stupid way to live.

Shit does stop me. And when it does it sucks. I can cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes in front of others. I can hurt, I can rust, and I can be fatigued. And in those moments I feel the most human. I feel vulnerable. I don’t feel like American textbooks. I feel like myself. Like something I’m not supposed to be or admit. Feeling, itself, is the most un-American feeling out there.

So why?

I wish I had an answer. If you read this to find out, I’m sorry. I don’t have an answer. I’m a twenty-something guy who sometimes drinks too much and sometimes gets lost in himself. I’m no scholar or prophet or professor. Hardly a writer except by definition.

We all have our cracks exposed sometimes. Those cracks? Well, they’re simply un-American. And that’s why, I think, we lie to ourselves. We want to be the heroes of history class. Be it on a smaller scale. We want to be Harrison Ford or Denzel Washington. We want to be Beyoncé Knowles and Jennifer Aniston. We want to be perfect.

We won’t be them, and honestly, they aren’t the version of Americanism we envision. Because there isn’t an ideal American. We all trick ourselves. We trick ourselves and others to lie to ourselves. The ultimate chess game. One versus one, but both ones are the same one. Does that make sense?

Anyway, as Americans, we feel invincible. The world has gone to shit, but the US is okay. The US has gone to shit, but our respective state is alright. County, town, school board, yadda, yadda, yadda. And then it sinks to the most personal level. We walk into public and that guy across the aisle has issues… but I don’t. Or the woman sitting at the bus stop is troubled, but you’re automatically better by default because you’ve got a car.

Maybe I’m ranting. Probably. But, this ranting is me lying to myself. Writing an essay about calling Americans on their bullshit and I can’t even commit to calling myself out. Maybe not finishing this essay says more about the subject than elaborating further.

Maybe not. You tell me.