We grew up side by side, but never together.
Kids just stuck to their respective groups of friends, never straying as an unspoken rule.
His friends and mine were few and far between.
He played basketball while I read a book from the tree overlooking his backyard.
Twelve years spent in that tree and I said nothing to him.
We always smiled though, like we were sharing a secret.
Both of us were too shy for our own good.
And then there was his sister, the popular girl a year older than me.
She was unafraid and adventurous, hardly spending a minute alone.
My own sister was the oldest kid in the neighborhood, too mature for the younger crowd.
She was in high school discovering her first taste of freedom.
While my sister played on the beach with her friends, I was playing dress-up with his.
I was grateful for her attention, chiding myself for wanting his a little more.
She chided me for always suggesting we invite him to play along.
That’s not how things were done back then.
Little girls played with little girls and little boys played with little boys.
So I sat in the room adjacent to his, wondering if he was as aware of our proximity as I was.
His door stayed open while she never hesitated to shut hers.
It felt like a warning at times, reminding me to not overstep my boundaries.
He and I never spoke, but we continued to smile at each other from little distances.
Soon, he started playing basketball at his school and I was reading on my couch.
I moved away and he did too.
You are allowed to get angry.
You are allowed to still think about it.
You are allowed to wonder.
You are allowed to cry.
You are allowed to be afraid.
You are allowed to let in every feeling that comes your way,
But you are obligated to pick up the pieces when you’re done.
I will never understand the heart of someone who can blatantly lie, lie through omission, or anything else of the sort. I will truly never understand the heart of somebody who does so when they claim to care for the person they are lying to.
One of the downfalls of the Internet culture we currently live in is how easy it is to be a liar. I suppose we all are to some degree, but I’m talking about flat out deceit. I’m talking about saying one thing aloud and your actions online being a complete juxtaposition. Sure, it’s easy to hide, but why do it? There has to be a serious lack of consideration for other’s to do something as selfish as lie about who you truly are, what you do, the things you are involved in, etc.
I won’t make this an emotionally-charged “all men do is lie” kind of post, because there are plenty of lying women out there too (as well as honest men and women, of course), but I only know what I have experienced and what I have experienced is frankly appalling.
There are few things more selfish than telling someone you care about them, while turning around a moment later to act as if they mean nothing to you through the art of deception. And, oh yes, it is an art. When someone wants something hidden, they learn how to become con artists, covering their tracks the best they know how while painting themselves as someone different. Better, often.
How can a man or woman watch somebody fall in love with them, watch that person give everything they can offer to them, watch that person fall for someone that does not truly exist? That’s what someone presents in a relationship when they are dishonest or intentionally leave out imperative details: a convoluted illusion of a person they are not. All for what? To simultaneously spare their partner’s feelings and their own asses, or even just their own asses. That, my friends, is selfish.
If you hide it, that’s lying. If you intentionally leave it out of a conversation with your partner, that’s lying. If you feel any tiny bit of remorse, that’s probably lying, though I’m starting to doubt that the people who go through the trouble of lying feel any amount of guilt.
And your partner picks up on most of the signs, like the way you get defensive about certain topics or the way you tilt your phone screen away from them slightly or how you shift the blame onto them when you suspect they might be on to you. They may be in denial, wanting so badly to believe the best of you. If you care about someone and the idea of being the person that intentionally causes them emotional distress does not tear you up inside, then you do not actually care about them.
If you are doing something that you need to hide, you probably shouldn’t be doing it at all.
Lies have a way of surfacing at some point, whether one actively searches for them or not. To crush someone’s trust in you is to sever the relationship. It may not be immediate, but believe me, they will never see you the same way again.
And yet I have watched so many people continue with a relationship with no true consideration for the other person. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” is not only mostly inaccurate because it’s the not-knowing that really can drive someone insane, but it’s the epitome of the attitude I’m trying to explain: a total lack of care and consideration for the person they claim to care the most about.
If you’d like more, some other contenders for my quote of choice were:
“Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters cannot be trusted with important matters” (Albert Einstein), “If they do it often, it isn’t a mistake; it’s just their behavior” (Dr. Steve Maraboli), and “The most attractive thing a man can do is exactly what he says he’s going to do” (unknown).
A PSA for the people who are currently lying or considering lying to their partner/anyone in general really: Just stop. Stop doing things you know you shouldn’t. Stop being selfish. Stop hurting people who treat you with respect. It’s probably not nearly as difficult as it seems. You don’t have to lie. It’s not helping anyone, not even you.
I will always think of you most when summer flies in,
Sweeping me along with it’s imminent breeze.
I used to love the thrill of cold ocean waves and sand burning my feet,
Reminders of all the times we chased one another down that beach back home.
Reaching for a childhood that was slipping from under us,
We were terrified of all the oncoming changes.
Tomorrow still came and went,
Pulling both you and I in it’s terrible wake.
I’d like to say we drifted apart along with the tide pulling itself back in,
But we both know that neither of us went peacefully.
We screamed at one another from opposite shores,
Simultaneously screaming for the other to be our refuge.
I stopped walking on the beach because it always felt like you were next to me,
But I longed to feel the familiar combination of salt and sweat on my skin one more time.
Forgetting how you looked then: red-faced and dangerously in-love,
Was harder than I ever expected it to be.
And now with the summer heat returning,
I silently hope that you will too.
Song: Dream – Tessa Violet
Discontented. I am not unhappy, not at all, but I am discontented.
Growing up seems to be wondering, “Is this it?” more and more often. Everything is heightened as a child; every emotion felt comes and goes with so much more intensity and brevity than in adulthood.
Maybe this is why teenagers are often written off as “angsty.” Maybe they’re quickly realizing that the excitement of childhood really is short-lived, but they don’t know how to communicate that just yet.
Young adulthood, where I currently abide, should be exciting. Right? College should be filled with friends and adventures, but so far, I have yet to fulfill that aspect of living. Does that mean I am simply not living? Merely existing? I used to think that that was such an overused term, but suddenly there is truth to it because I can’t even remember the last time I laughed. I mean really laughed. The kind of laugh where you can’t control yourself, where maybe a few tears slip out and your words are indecipherable. Where did that go?
I see my peers laugh like that all the time, so why not me? I want all the cliches I’ve been writing off all my life (likely solely because I can’t seem to find them for myself). Riding in a car full of friends singing along to a too-loud radio, going to concerts, spontaneous day trips to who-knows-where. I’ll even take the late night study sessions where my eyes feel too heavy to keep open and we recharge on coffee every hour.
Because I have had tastes of that kind of living, my God these kids don’t know how lucky they are to be surrounded by friends. Those few moments, even a couple years at one point, were some of the few times I have felt like I was living in a movie; where I felt and did everything I was supposed to feel and do. They don’t know how good they have it, because the only thing I have consistently longed for in my entire life is to truly belong.
This is the time of life that older people look back on and talk about with fondness; with pride and a longing look in their eyes. This is the time of life that people without social anxiety and an unlikable awkwardness take for granted.
I have fallen into a nasty rut long before I am supposed to. So, am I simply existing? Or am I simply jealous?
I have had a busy mind, a busy body, but a sleeping spirit. All of my insides feel like they aren’t there, or maybe they are but they aren’t doing anything except taking up space. There are too many thoughts rattling around in my head; so many that I’m unsure if I am thinking at all.
I want to feel something moving. Even the tiniest emotion could build me back up. I can’t even feel my heart beat when I think of Him. Why can’t I feel anything? Why does everything scare me, but I don’t feel the fear? I know it’s there simply because it holds me back, but I’d rather feel fear than nothing at all.