HONOR PRAEMIUM VIRTUTIS EST
What is a lie? Is it the omission of the truth, or is when you make something up because that version is more self-serving? When I got sick I only told a few people, and since than only a few more have found out. Its not that I was trying to keep this from them, its more that I saw how much it hurt the people I was closest to. I felt like I needed to pretend I was strong and that everything was okay when it clearly wasn’t. I decided the best thing to do was to not tell anyone else. I could handle myself, but I couldn’t handle their emotional baggage on top of it.
It seems like even when I try to be my genuine self, it is still just a mask for more lies. I know I chose this, and I know that quite frankly they could never understand. I used to have a friend who would always guilt trip me about being a so-called “secret agent” and how he felt like I actually worked for the government as an undercover spy. The strangest part about it is while he isn’t right, at least not about being a sexy undercover spy living this double-life, he wasn’t completely wrong either. Change a few details and he’s almost got it correct.
But than what if something is more important than the truth? Like the safety of myself, and of the people around me? What if being completely honest would put everyone in jeopardy. When does the truth end and the lie start? I used to think that in order to be a genuine person, you had to be 100 percent truthful with everyone all the time. I mean no one does that, and most people are even more attached to the masks they’ve created for themselves than I am. So in the context of our society I would say I’m a pretty honest person, but I also don’t think that is really saying too much.
I used to be an expert at that though. I was able to put on this mask that I was in fact perfect, I think at times I even had myself fooled. That everything in my life was better than anything anyone could ask for. In high school I had straight As, was a gymnast training with former Olympians, had an amazingly sweet wonderful guy as my boyfriend. I was skinny, and pretty and everyone bought it. Despite that my life was a complete mess, nothing about it was a fairytale, even though on the surface it appeared that way. It made people feel comfortable, like okay here’s another one that will fit nicely into this status quo box we’ve created. We don’t need to worry about her.
People will always believe what they want to believe, even if their so-called “truth” conflicts with reality. I remember coming home devastated one day in high school. I had received one of my essays back from my teacher, and while I don’t remember if he just gave me an ‘F’ or wrote a note about me seeing him after class I do remember what happened next. He didn’t even accuse me of cheating, as much as he told me that I had clearly plagiarized my entire essay. I was beyond shocked and horrified. As much as I might lie about little details, I would never write a fake essay, if only for the reason that it would be much easier for me to pull something out of my ass than it would be to track down writers that no one has ever heard of, and copy all of their material. I’m a good writer. I don’t lie about that.
The saddest part is, this whole thing could’ve easily been solved within about 20 minutes or so, if he had just had me sit down and write something for him. He could’ve compared the samples and found that I have a pretty unique way of putting words together and it would be hard to confuse me with another writer. I know we eventually worked it out, after much frustration and many tears on my part, but it didn’t change what happened. I’m not even sure if he ever apologized.
Or maybe it was more that he was picking up on this whole spy thing. Which makes me wonder if that means I’m a con artist, or just a very good actress. After all, my exterior was a complete lie, he just got wrong what I was lying about ;)
It seems like even when I try to be my genuine self, it is still just a mask for more lies. I know I chose this, and I know that quite frankly they could never understand. I used to have a friend who would always guilt trip me about being a so-called “secret agent” and how he felt like I actually worked for the government as an undercover spy. The strangest part about it is while he isn’t right, at least not about being a sexy undercover spy living this double-life, he wasn’t completely wrong either. Change a few details and he’s almost got it correct.
But than what if something is more important than the truth? Like the safety of myself, and of the people around me? What if being completely honest would put everyone in jeopardy. When does the truth end and the lie start? I used to think that in order to be a genuine person, you had to be 100 percent truthful with everyone all the time. I mean no one does that, and most people are even more attached to the masks they’ve created for themselves than I am. So in the context of our society I would say I’m a pretty honest person, but I also don’t think that is really saying too much.
I used to be an expert at that though. I was able to put on this mask that I was in fact perfect, I think at times I even had myself fooled. That everything in my life was better than anything anyone could ask for. In high school I had straight As, was a gymnast training with former Olympians, had an amazingly sweet wonderful guy as my boyfriend. I was skinny, and pretty and everyone bought it. Despite that my life was a complete mess, nothing about it was a fairytale, even though on the surface it appeared that way. It made people feel comfortable, like okay here’s another one that will fit nicely into this status quo box we’ve created. We don’t need to worry about her.
People will always believe what they want to believe, even if their so-called “truth” conflicts with reality. I remember coming home devastated one day in high school. I had received one of my essays back from my teacher, and while I don’t remember if he just gave me an ‘F’ or wrote a note about me seeing him after class I do remember what happened next. He didn’t even accuse me of cheating, as much as he told me that I had clearly plagiarized my entire essay. I was beyond shocked and horrified. As much as I might lie about little details, I would never write a fake essay, if only for the reason that it would be much easier for me to pull something out of my ass than it would be to track down writers that no one has ever heard of, and copy all of their material. I’m a good writer. I don’t lie about that.
The saddest part is, this whole thing could’ve easily been solved within about 20 minutes or so, if he had just had me sit down and write something for him. He could’ve compared the samples and found that I have a pretty unique way of putting words together and it would be hard to confuse me with another writer. I know we eventually worked it out, after much frustration and many tears on my part, but it didn’t change what happened. I’m not even sure if he ever apologized.
Or maybe it was more that he was picking up on this whole spy thing. Which makes me wonder if that means I’m a con artist, or just a very good actress. After all, my exterior was a complete lie, he just got wrong what I was lying about ;)
