The past, it whispers. Faintly, at first, but ever louder, ever stronger, ever angrier.
The truth supposedly sets you free, and I cannot help but believe it. Hiding from the truths deep within creates an oubliette within the skull, until I cannot do anything but face the reality. And what is real is painful. It’s yet another lesson learned the hard way.
I am too much of a believer in redemption of myself and of others. My expectations are too great for all involved, which curses me to disappointment and failure. I need to learn what to hold as canon and what to discard as a poetic form of hopscotch.
But who am I to judge? I’m a liar, just like all of you. Is that okay? Is that all I will ever be?
Day 126: Liar – Neverending White Lights