I have come to the nauseating conclusion that everyone lies. It’s not even a conclusion. It’s a basic truth. It is something that is devious and all too real. Whether they are lies of omission, flat-out untruths, or painting a picture to ease the mind from unpleasantness. It just sucks when you tie yourself up in one for so long and reality breaks through. It feels like your world shatters. Even if you were involved in the lie, when everything falls apart, all that can happen is staring in the mirror and wondering who the hell you were and why the hell you allowed things to go on for so long without facing reality, without facing the truth, without confessing to not only the loved ones you hurt, but the most injured person: yourself.
Right now I am pondering lies, untruths, and fiction, because it feels like for far too long I have allowed people to play me, to paint me into a situation that is a complete falsehood. There are so many ways people take advantage, the worst of is when you are in a vulnerable spot, and then slowing coming to the realization that this image, this idea, this thought, is nothing but a house of cards. One small gasp and it comes tumbling down. The air inhaled and then exhaled, the kings and queens, jacks and tens, falling in numerical chaos. When the world lies, how the fuck are we ever supposed to trust anyone? Is it naïve to trust? I am beginning to think it is. Even those that claim to love you. No wonder in my dreams darkness shrouds everyone’s faces. Is everyone hiding a secret? I want to believe in the goodness of people, but I keep finding myself standing at a precipice and looking down at the corpses of relationships past; at the ghosts that haunt me. There is a tangible, palpable displeasure emanating from me when it comes to ever building, or wanting to build, a romantic relationship. I feel like every time I open the window, it slams shut and shatters. Or I have to slam it shut, and the force in which I do cracks the pane.
Tomorrow is the beginning of a busy weekend. I thrive on schedules and continual action. The sitting, the thinking, the pondering, the exploring my mind, never benefits me. I find myself slowly slipping into a depression wondering what the next step is, whether I have the strength to take the next step, whether I have the courage to face those endless possibilities and the potential disaster that might follow. The unknown is so frightening, and I have never been one to appreciate the journey, the discovery, but I am learning. There are still moments, though, where I wish nothing more than to know the path before me prior to taking my first step. It’s a selfish desire. Some may call it maturity, but I am beginning to believe that maturity is what develops with each step, facing each new challenge. Right now, though, with countless issues facing me and many emotions taking hold, I wonder at my strength to move forward. I feel like cowering in a corner. Curling up in the fetal position and telling the day to fuck off. It sickens me that after so many great weeks and weekends that I am back to these feelings, to seriously considering the easy way out and not facing the issues in front of me.
I wish I was strong. I wish I could look someone in the eye and tell them what I feel, what I think. I want the ability to tell someone I know they are lying to me. I am sick of having untruths and falsehoods cloud my life. I participated in them, I allowed them to happen, I wrapped myself up in my own desires that I turned a blind eye to blatant displays of fiction. There is a part of me that wants forgiveness from my past sins, but how can I ask that when in my heart of hearts I cannot yet forgive those things trespassed against me? The next step is friendship. Romantic relationships, love, are fools games. I recently wrote a thought down that I want to have tattooed somewhere on my body that reads: “Love is a fool’s game, and I am a lonely jester looking for court.” It is what I feel. It is my knowledge from experience. Whoever comes next, whatever comes next, has a lot to understand about me, has to know that deep down I am nothing more than an injured and vulnerable girl. And unfortunately, the strength I may emanate makes people blind to truth. I am hurt. I have scars running the length of my body; mental, physical, emotional. I am losing faith in love. I am losing faith in people. Everyone lies. And that is the ultimate truth.