I despise them.
Like a creeping form of cancer, they burrow deep within the soul and heart of a person, attaching themselves to the essential reality of existence, moving furtively beneath the surface, unseen but not unfelt. Insidious, creeping abominations, destroyers of hope and possibilities, berserkers who lurk unseen until the optimum moment when they leap out to destroy hard-won equilibrium, to destroy the façade of contentment and reveal the paucity of truth.
I fucking HATE lies. I’m not talking stupid lies – lies where you tell someone you paid $40 when it was $100 or that you did something you said you would do, but hadn’t (but you really DID mean to and WILL). I’m talking REAL lies – lies that hurt and rend and tear when the reality bites occur … AND reality ALWAYS bites.
Lies and trust are inextricably entwined… one destroys the other.
And there are, in MY view, lies of omission. When you know there is something NOT being told, something not being volunteered or offered for discussion, lies of omission are almost worst. Because it allows the individual to feel they are “not lying” but merely choosing not to tell. When the reality is that actions where omission is practiced, deliberately, with forethought, with full knowledge that one is NOT telling because one is unable to vomit the secret which is choking them … are LIES nonetheless.
Despair envelopes me with a smothering cloak of despondency. The cycle of life… the turn of the wheel, I remember this place so very well. I thought the wheel had turned and this grey miasma of desolation left behind, but here we are, back again in the familiar environs of a bleak room and looking around, I detect the detritus of other days and other nights and scent the clinging, malevolent effluence of rotting promises.
I’m stronger now though.
That’s a good thing isn’t it?
I can see clearly now … of course I always question the veracity of my own conclusions; I second-guess and wonder if indeed the things I see are indeed there, concrete and inescapable or merely figments from an overactive imagination. When your entire belief system has been systematically eroded and destroyed over time, when realities you thought absolute truth are revealed for the flimsy creation of myth and creationism they in reality ARE, then it is increasingly difficult to find any reason at all to believe in anything at all.
As trite as it seems, trust needs a solid foundation of truths on which to build.
When those “truths” have been revealed again and again to be a fabric of supposition and fantasy, then the foundation is inevitably fragile and unstable.
and not something on which to build.
I want to build. I want to believe. But damn its hard when the “truths” you know are there, have never been revealed. When the names have never been named … and the realities never revealed. So how do you build on a foundation as liquid and unstable as bog?