The Lie

I lied.

The initial seed of disappointment has fermented,
and in the absence of confrontation, grown roots

written sorrowful chapters
conclusion: unworthiness

Why couldn’t I just have said:
I don’t understand
this makes me unhappy?

Where did I learn that prevarication protects
that I alone am responsible for emotions
that I do not matter?

Decades later
I still cannot uproot the weed.
The lie remains.

(Image my own)

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VJ

Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

24 thoughts on “The Lie”

  6. It usually takes, many years of these lies of ourselves that we told, to, come out in the, open, and, we avoid them, because, acknowledging them, make what we refused to admit, true, and, we want to, avoid feeling, the, discomforts, so, we work our hardest, to, attempt and, fail miserably to, escape what we can’t, and, eventually, we still have to, face these, lies of ourselves, there is, NO, escspe!!!

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