Love and Lies and Oceans
I am a terrible person. If I said that out loud, I would be met with scores of replies from friends who think I am just having a bad day, or being just a little insecure. But I can trust you guys to take me at my word - I am a bad person. Not in an "everyone's a sinner" kind of way, but in a truly horrible "I hurt the people around me" kind of way. The part of me that still feels like I must always tell the truth shudders a little when truth or dare comes around, and I thank my lucky stars that everybody knows me as more of a "dare" kind of gal. If everyone knew all my secrets, I doubt I would have a friend left in all the world. So of course, I will not reveal them here, since as it is, I think you guys will forgive me. But they trouble me. I do not want to hurt people. My impulsiveness gets me into more scrapes than I can get out of, and there are some I don't want to. But I hate to hurt people. And so it happens that I have done some painful things and have never told a soul. I remember a long time ago when I was talking to someone (whom I ended up dating for well over two years), he asked me to tell him something about myself. He reminded me of this a year or so back and what I said still haunts me, because I didn't realize how true it was at the time. I looked him dead in the eye and said, "I could lie through my teeth about anything I like, and you would never, ever know."
What possessed me to say that, I don't know, but it's true. I am a much better liar than I ever gave myself credit for. But I don't like it. I'm uncomfortable every time I do it. Sometimes I just feel like it is more selfish to tell; to relieve the tension you feel by telling someone something that will only hurt them. I know that in some part I am being a coward by not saying anything, but I can't bring myself to hurt them with something that is no longer even relevant; to break their hearts so that I can sleep a little better. They did nothing to deserve the pain and I should be tossing in my bed with guilt weighing me down like a cinderblock.
And even with this self-condemnation comes a sense of elation - I am happy. There is nothing I deserve less, but the crazy, everything-is-alright feeling that comes with loving someone, whether or not they feel the same, fills me with a secret joy that I revel in every day. I laugh and scream with abandon, and run as yesterday chases me into tomorrow, with all its sweet surprises and thrilling conquests. I am a wreck of a human being, and intense stress has become part of my daily life, but I am on top of the whole wide world.
And the world wants me, I know it. I belong in it. The mountains call me with their wind and daredevil drops, and the valleys sing every time they see me, and the oceans drag me out to their depths with every wave that lifts me off my feet. Someday, I may let it happen. Just let the wild heights and the greenness hold me until the day I die; let the starry purple skies and the water nymphs take me to their home and keep me forever.
Because I know, somehow, that they have already forgiven me.