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