Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Lies
I can't remember when I became so afraid to tell the truth: the whole story. I build and build and build upon these lies, these shaky foundations. Finally I find myself looking down from the tall building I've built, and placed myself on top of. I am peering over the edge, watching it sway at the first sign of a light breeze. Not dependable, nor sturdy. The only way off is to jump, and if I'm lucky, I'll walk away with a bruise. I start to build again, but somewhere in the mortar, in between the bricks, are little lies that eat away at the very essence of my building. It crumbles and it falls. I know no other way. I've built some of these buildings far too high and as I see they're about to fall, I find the only way to stay alive is to build higher and higher... the higher I build, the longer it takes to get to the ground if I should fall, I am merely postponing my certain plunge. Too high to jump down now, so I've got to keep building. I keep building even though I know it's inevitable: One day, this city of buildings will crumble down to the ground and I will have to struggle greatly to find myself somewhere beneath the ruble.
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2 comments:
Let us hope that such trouble doesn't come. But if it does, you will be a phoenix, reborn from the ashes!
The truth may be painful, but a lie destroys, tears down, kills. The truth is often easier to live with than we believe. We obsess our way to a hyperbolic unreality. Worry more about your character than your butt. If you make wise choices you won't have to worry about that much either. Life is rarely difficult for any other reason than because we've made it that way for ourselves. And gavrich, the metaphor is pretty, but actions are beautiful.
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