Morningwood

Nothing good can ever come of the truth. Truth is an ugly, honest-to-god un-beautiful thing. It may seem sad to the altruistic mind, or even one corrupted manifold, but THIS IS the truth.
See? Nothing good came of that either.

Our entire existence is spent living in the elaborate lies we create, tangled into those woven by the people we let into our lives, and each one touching a hundred more till the web is infinity in itself. No matter how much one may say one is truthing, one will never be completely truthful. In fact one is not even capable. What good can come of it?
You’re beautiful. Although, you have that wart on the back of your neck… and soon, once I’ve seen enough of your face, I’m going to focus all of my attention on hating the wart, so that every time I see your face I see the wart and soon I’m not going to want to see your face anymore just because I’ve started to hate it just as much as I hate that wart.
The lie is what gives life its value and bearability. It makes lives worth spending in the company of friends and loved ones. Because they don’t need to hear your truth, because they know just what the truth is and because they know just how to keep the truth in that dark place where you keep their secrets too. The difference between these lies and the ones the world will tell you, are in the ends for which they are the means.

The truth is embarrassing; the truth is raw; the truth is a host of negative emotion. But if you knew it all, for the sake of naked, unashamed, white-faced honesty, would you want it still?
The truth is humbling; the truth is innocent; the truth is horrific. The truth is the child who killed himself because he understood. The lie said he was disturbed.
The truth is not love; the truth is not light; the truth is not the sacrifice. The truth is the loner. The lie is in the wedding dress.
The truth is not what’s bursting out; the truth is not what we’re dying to tell the world; the truth is not what we’re desperate to confess to our closest companion; the truth is what we don’t.

I wish I never did this.

“Be not so long to speak; I long to die” – J

Cover week:
Sheryl Crow – D’yer Mak’er
Girls Aloud – I Think We’re Alone Now

image courtesy cricinfo.com