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"So here's the truth about the truth: it hurts. So we lie."

This was the closing line of tonight's "Grey's Anatomy" (which if you are smart, you have already discovered is one of, if not THE, best shows on television right now). It's interesting, engaging, honest, amusing, thought-provoking, and a list of several other adjectives.

Enough of the plug...

I couldn't agree more. The lies range from those we tell other people, to the ones we tell ourselves; little white lies, to the ones that can ruin a person's life. Sometimes admitting the lie is as simple as saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that" and other times it feels like the world is going to cave in and swallow you whole.

Personally, I told a few lies today. Mostly to myself, maybe one or two to my mother. We went clothes shopping and that comes with an arsenal of lies, or so my experience has been. While I can "admit" some of these lies to myself, I certainly will not put them in writing. That's a little too real for my liking. So they will fester within. They aren't the kind of lies to bring down a kingdom, or even a household, but they might lead to the unraveling of me...and that's something that I can't deal with. I work too hard to keep myself in one piece, or at the very least, a few manageable pieces. Crumbling isn't an option.

So we lie as self-preservation. And sometimes we lie to preserve those around us. Maybe it's not healthy, and maybe it's just the easy way out...but life is hard enough as it is and we could use an "easy" button every once in a while. So if that "easy" button comes attached to a little white lie, I will gladly take it. Wouldn't you?


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Jan. 23rd, 2006 04:52 am (UTC)
You know what's funny? Not only am I currently listening to "Wreck of the Day" on OCD repeat (I love "I'd cheat destiny just to be near you"), but I feel like I could unravel too. Check out my entry of a minute ago; I'm freaking about this writing thing. The truth is, I promised myself I'd finish editing the novel and now I just haven't and home and I should be doing something with it but I'm so fucking scared that the voice in my head that tells me I'm just a crappy writer and artist is right, so because of that, I can't work anymore. Or maybe that's a convenient lie too. Some days, I just don't know what to do with myself.

I'd like an "easy" button.

No I wouldn't. But it's nice to dream about.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

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