I know everyone is watching the Superbowl right now, but I opted to sit at my computer instead. I know I could be at a Superbowl party right now, enjoying junk food and good company, but I decided to quarantine myself because I'm scared. I've been having these fits of honesty, lately. At first, I wasn't sure if I was being selfish by purging secrets despite knowing that feelings would be hurt in the process. Since the onslaught of blunt, unforgiving truths, I've realized that the Truth isn't always the way to go. Sure, it helps communication, but only if both people are ready to communicate.
I was taught, as children are taught, to always tell the truth. ALWAYS. There are no exceptions. Now that I'm older, I feel like I've been lied to. There are reasons to lie, reasons to withold, reasons to evade and hide things from others. Some of those reasons are actually valid. Some of them are not.
What I have decided is that to "come clean" is only good if you're willing to get your hands dirty. I know I'm mixing metaphors, but here's the deal: Once a lie or untruth is excavated, there's a lot of dirt, dust and muck to sift through before the shiny truth can be seen. If you aren't willing to clean it up and wash off the mud, then leave the truth buried and burn the map.
In one case, I'm very glad I 'fessed up. It was absolutely The Right Thing To Do. I'm glad I did it, and I'm glad it's over. In another case, I'm devastated. No, i take that back. I'm actually relieved, and I feel selfish because they weren't ready for the truth. They went digging in a graveyard and got upset when they found a rotting corpse. They weren't ready for the truth, and for that I'm very very sorry. So, I write.
The truth is, I'm writing because I don't really care for football. Sorry to disappoint.
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