...You Could Stand To Be A Little More Honest.

We all lie.
 Let me repeat that: 
WE ALL LIE.

We do it because we say we don't want to hurt someone's feelings. It's really because we don't want to be responsible for the person's owning-up to the reality of their situation.  "No, of COURSE you don't look fat in those jeans" sounds a whole lot nicer than "Let me get some icing for that succulent muffin-top you've got there." You don't tell her that because we think that if we lie to Lady Muffin about her jelly roll, we are somehow sparing her feelings but, in reality, her feelings are going to be a whole lot more hurt when you're walking through the mall and a group of anorexic fetal teenagers starting pointing and giggling.  Lady Muffin will eventually come to question your loyalty to her because you let her out of the house without at least a mention that she may not look her best. Once you've introduced doubt (especially in a woman's mind), that bullet train will make its rounds through every corner of her mind;  and by the end of the day, you're no longer her friend... Why? Because, you tried to spare her feelings-- no, make that YOUR discomfort-- and you allowed her to be humiliated.

We lie sometimes to save our asses, not fully comprehending the consequences that could whip around to lash back at us and/or on others.  Do you remember the mugging you witnessed in a dark alley, or the constant banging and screaming you hear downstairs, or the drive-by that killed a boy in front of his mother? Of course you do! You studied every moment of that incident because for some odd reason, humans are inherently nosy.  But, what did you do when the police officer and the victim/s caught up with you and asked you to identify the suspects and describe what you saw? You feared the mugger, or the old army vet that lives in the apartment beneath you, or the gang members that live on the corner-- you're afraid they would come back to get you.  So you lie and say you saw and heard nothing, and nothing happens. Those offenders are let back on the street and they continue to terrorize the public, only now they come with a sense of invincibility that dares them to take their crimes to the next level. Do you feel any safer, thinking that nothing will happen to you because you said nothing; or, does it go around and around in your mind? The tiny seed of paranoia grows into a giant hedge that blocks you from living your life fearlessly, and leaves you always looking around the next corner for those people that KNEW you were there and witnessed everything. Now you'll go through your life feeling like a loose end that eventually WILL get tied. The other possibility (barring total paranoia) is that you turn on the news and see the mugger was released only to rape his next victim. You come home to ambulances outside your building and find that the kids who used to help you bring up your groceries don't have parents anymore-- the army vet went ape-shit and killed his wife and himself. Those gang members shot up another house and killed a child while he slept in his crib... Why? Because you didn't want to be involved in something that would put you in a difficult position of having to testify in a court, or put you in a vulnerable state. For some, the truth isn't worth sparing another's life.

These are only a few examples of the consequences of lying, and they're not even malicious lies-- the outcomes of that sort are usually inflicted soon after the lies are conceived and spread. The one who gets the worst consequence is the one who told the worst lie. We've seen those instances in movies like Gossip (2000) where the lie is horrible, evil and only seeks to destroy those about whom the lie was told but, in the end, the one who created the shit-storm was the one who paid the most for his action. We watch the news and the smear campaigns, the tabloids and the entertainment news, where he who has the most dirt gets the most views, and most never stop to consider whether their appetite for the dirt sheets are what perpetuate the never-ending torture of those in the spotlight. We all encounter those types of liars, from the public sphere down to the gossip around the water cooler, but those types are fairly obvious and, ideally, we have the foresight to steer clear of gossip-mongers and their malice.

 This is more about the "gray area" of lying, the kind that we think hurts no one, or the kind that we think spares an uglier scene.  The reality is, it's uglier to lie. Our integrity has so little value these days, which is a shame because it really is a beautiful thing to behold when you meet someone who is truly honest.  You meet a person that is straight up with you, no matter how it makes them look, no matter if feelings might get a little ruffled, or if their honesty may risk them the people they love.  A true honest person has no fear of losing those they love, because they know that true love transcends any wisp of a bruised ego or a difficult situation.  Truly honest people know that when you lie, you don't change the situation or the person-- a lie is only a way of denying the truth to yourself.

I've decided to stop lying to myself. It was easy to create this perfect little world where I saw people as the people I wanted them to be, and it was such a far cry from the truth.  Things that I felt were guaranteed slipped away, and things I had no faith in petrified themselves into permanent existence.  There were truths I'd done so much to deny, truths that I tried too hard to not give much thought,  truths that built up beyond my wildest dreams into huge stacks of reality that came tumbling down around my shoulders. There are emotions, which I thought would never change, that burst into flames and whose ashes fallen into an abyss of forgotten life stories. At the heart of all these changes is a little word that loves to be thrown around but is never fully comprehended, appreciated, or honored...

Honesty.

I Knew That It Wasn't Easy... I Just Thought It Would Be Worth It.

I’m coming around to a year since we last spoke. I don’t want to speak to you. I don’t want to hear your voice. I don’t want to know that you’re still as much of an idiot as you were then.  I don’t miss you—I miss the person I thought was you. I look at your picture and have to remind myself that the person I thought you were was an act to get you in where you could fit in.  There’s a reason you have so many masks—you refuse to commit to the face that lies beneath.  You are a kaleidoscope of personalities that changes as your user commands. You think you have control? HA—you can’t have it when you care so much about what others think. You’ll land yourself in jail, have bricks flying through your windows, lose your cars, your freedom and your mind—all because you wanted to keep up with everyone else’s stupidity. But hey, you are who you hang with.

I hate when I start looking for any indication that the “you” I knew has emerged and that you miss me, because I know the real you forgot about me already.  If I had meant anything to you, you never would have let me walk away. You let me walk away so many times, you humiliated me from far away, in front of everyone, and I followed you like a stupid, blind little puppy. You never stopped me from making a fool of myself, because you liked the idea of someone being so stupidly in love with you that I lost all regard for my dignity.  You let your stupid friends make fun of me, shun me and make me look like a psycho.  You wanted perfection and unconditional devotion, but I am far from anything that is perfect, and I am a breathing human who wanted reciprocation. You just knew that you loved pure, unfailing devotion—without having to submit to any of your own. 

You’d kill yourself for just a small scrap of the person I am now, but you’ll never see it.  You’ll go through a thousand girls whose hearts you will also shatter, and you will experience twice the breaks in a cosmic retribution derived from the crone Karma, while her maiden-self will show me her beautiful forgiveness and offer me redemption.  Go around the world and wait for your imagination to create a perfect image of humble submission with a perfect figure—nothing you could ever conjure in your twisted mind will ever compare to the Native Goddess that stood before you in jeans and multicolored Chucks.

Do not speak of love if you did not do all you could to protect the love you had.  Do not speak of love’s rejection if you did not heed its call because it did not present itself in the way you wanted it.  I loved you, but I was not the manifestation of your selfish desires. Your love is a toxic mill that ground me up and burned the mash, until there was nothing left of that person I used to be. I have risen from the ashes of that lost love, and returned a better, stronger person—one that you have no right to ever have a chance at again.

Yes, you fucked love—you beat it, raped it and left it for dead, and blamed it for your sorrow.  You imbibed in love’s tears and blamed them for your drunken thirst.  You gorged on love’s bounty and cursed it for your state of emotional bulimia. Do not blame love for your empty cup—blame yourself for throwing the glass—and when you’ve burned, suffocated, and starved for the very thing you hold within yourself and refuse to give… I hope you forgive yourself, pick up the pieces and find something better than you could ever give yourself the chance to find.

That, my dear, is love—in spite of my anger and sadness for what you have done, I still wish you a path out of your misery and into the paradise that you’ve denied yourself. If I never see you again (which, in fact, is the plan), may you find peace in your soul and love in your heart.