Wednesday 5 October 2011

This Heart's A Mess.

My tongue is quick to lie, I'm finding. It surprises me a little to note how many times I'll have some fiction at the ready, how I'm prepared at any moment to tell something less than true.

Sometimes it's a half-lie, bordered in truth; some glimmer of fact peppered throughout. And often, not. Just a full out invention. Void of all honesty.

I'm realizing this, and I'm trying now - now that I know - to right myself. To slow down the quickly constructed replies and ask myself: why not the truth?

What are you hiding from? And what will be the consequence if it were brought to light, rather than stuffed
                                                                              down inside of me ?
                            [Why all this hiding?]

So the answer is yes. That's what I meant to say to you. That was the proper - true - reply, but instead you got something else, something less than you deserved. Something I wish I could believe. But you were right, and that unnerved me. 

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