Liar

Digging deep into who you really are is a very difficult thing. I often tell my students that it sometimes hurts to produce good writing because you need to be brutally honest with yourself, and in order to write something heart-felt, it must be authentic. In many ways, I feel like my entire life has been one lie piled upon all the others because truth is subject to perspective, and I seriously doubt that my perspective has been anywhere close to honest. That realization is difficult enough to admit to myself, but to admit it to the world is almost a relief. I am a liar. The truth about my life has been presented in bits and pieces where everyone is able to come to conclusions about who I am, but honestly, those are nothing more than the parts I have chosen to share. Is it possible for an incomplete story to be truth? Even more importantly, is it possible for a partial story to be The Truth? Doubtful.

So, I am a liar because I have never been comfortable with who I am. I have never been happy with the life I was dealt, and so I have never given the complete picture. This isn't anyone's fault, if anything its just bad wiring in my brain or in my soul, or maybe I'm just into suffering because its easy to be the misunderstood one. The real challenge is actually being a part of something. It is difficult to be accepted, and it is difficult to accept being accepted. The outcast is cool, the regular guy is so normal. The misfit doesn't have to stand up to norms, standards, or rules, he just has to be different and let everything fall into place without ever justifying a thing. Eventually, he finds other misfits and they get to justify each other. Now that's easy, they just have to say, "That's just how we are," and be done with it. That's what I did.

I remember crawling into the attic once when I was five years old and staying there for what seemed like an eternity. At one point I remember realizing that no one was looking for me. I was alone. I was sad. Later, it became a refuge as I began taking books up there to escape the feeling of being alone with others in the house, and I became a better reader, and I cultivated my imagination, and I created a different reality. But I did it alone, with no measure of who I was as a person. Unfortunately, I often still feel alone whether I'm with people or not, and I have become so accustomed to creating my own version of reality, that I came to believe myself.

I even came to believe in myself above all else. The ablity to believe in yourself above all else is possibly the most dangerous thing in our society because it means that no one, no thing, no ideology, or theology can is placed above your own personal beliefs. That, is what many call blasphemy. Many call it a lie. And so, whether in a crowded room or hiding away in some sanctuary, one of the most truthful things I can say about myself is that I am a liar.