The truth is, I never tell anyone the complete truth. I wonder how often I tell truths in my life then. You see, it's not easy to tell a complete truth without sounding too vulnerable for your own sake or too exposed for others. As easy as the notion goes "tell the truth", I find myself fumbling and editing few words or so, maybe some comas and finding where to put the full-stop. Telling the truth is never easy.
When I was young, I was told that lying is an absolute sin in which the demons lure us away and slide out from our mouths. But what's the point of the truth when nobody listens? It slowly became a habit of routine rather than really wanting to know. Nevertheless, I figured I didn't want to be associated with the demons so I decided to tell people what they want to hear. That was an easier way.
As I grew up, changing schools, going into university -- I found that my truth can sometimes be other people's view of absurdity, condemnation, denial and disapproval. It was hard to swallow the bitter pill when someone is contaminating of what is true to you. It's like an atheist vs. a Catholic. Truth to be told, if he doesn't believe in God, so be it. If he's a Catholic, so be it. Both are true in their own views. Though sadly that's not the world we live in, isn't it? There can be only be one truth; which is both impossible and not easy.
Then again, the truth is never easy. To even look at yourself in the mirror can be tough on certain days, what more to the truth from others. You know that cliche line "what others think of you does not matter". The truth is, sometimes it does matter. Not because their opinions are worth a pot of gold but really, you'll be surprised at the truth you can find in them. I'm no referring to your body weight or clothing styles but of what they see in you that you've been in denial of.
But the truth is never easy. Then again, how much truth do you think I've written?
Friday, December 28, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Shit. Yes, that's my first word in my mind while writing this post after a good 3 months hiatus. It's good to be back -- writing. That's the thing about writing though, no matter how long you stop or tell yourself "you know what, I'm done writing", you'll find yourself creeping back, itching to write for words and when you do, it's almost like catching up with an old friend.
I was in the bookstore today and I swear I was squirming like a little kid, finding the books I wanted. Sheesh. I still can't find the books I really want, which is really depressing. You know how you really want that pants but find out there's no size for you? Yeap. That's it.
So here's the list of books I've been searching for high & low:
1. The Book Thief - Markus Zusak
2. The Fault in Our Stars - John Green
3. The History of Love: A Novel - Nicole Krauss
4. Peter Pan - J.M. Barrie (like the real story, not the kid's section book)
5. The Boy in Stripped Pyjamas - John Boyne
The books received amazing reviews, so I'm really tempted to read it. As for now, I'm still reading Jane Eyre. I know! I'm slow but god, law degree is as challenging as it is. Taking up so much time in my life. When they say you have to write and read a lot, they do mean A LOT. But it's going well for me, I guess -- though it's stressful. Really hoping things would go well next year.
I can't help but feel I don't belong here. My presence feels sore, sometimes it's miserable, other times it feels numb where I couldn't even care what's going on.
But I'll save that for the next post. (yes, I'm coming back)