Welcome to Citizen.

Got a special show for you today.

We're going to talk about the constitution of self-deception.

And let's start out with a little story.

I'll do this a little bit differently this time.

There's a man sitting across from you at a table.

Maybe it's a kitchen, table late at night.

Maybe it is a booth in some half-lit

diner after work. Coffee's gone. Cold. Your phone's face down. Your shoulders are rounded

from carrying a life. You insist is not that heavy. And then he starts explaining his life,

not complaining exactly. And that's a strange part. He doesn't sound irrational. He doesn't sound stupid part he doesn't sound irrational he doesn't

sound stupid he doesn't sound like a man who has lost contact with reality he sounds reasonable

tells you why the job never became what it could have been your timing was wrong the. The boss never valued him. The company politics were rigged. The right opportunity never came. Blah, blah, blah, blah. He explains the business idea that never got off the ground. He saw the trend early. He knew where the market was going. He just didn't have the capital, the partner, the network, or the season to get it done. And then he explains

his relationship. He wanted peace, but she always pushed. He wanted respect, but she always criticized.

He wanted connection, but every time he opened up, it turned into a fight. And then his health.

He knows what to do. He knows what everybody knows.

Eat better, train, sleep, stop drinking so much,

stop scrolling until midnight like a prisoner looking at bars of his own cage.

But life has been stressful and work has been insane.

And the schedule has been impossible and he'll get back on track when things settle down.

And everything he says makes sense, and that's the terrifying part.

Nothing sounds like a lie.

...