The truth. Do we really want to confront the truth? Do we honestly want to know it? Sometimes, we yearn for it to sate our curiosity – but do we really want it?
Do we really want the ugly truth shoved to us bluntly?
Today was a very unusual day. It reminds me so much of Jesse McCartney’s The Best Day of My Life. You know, “just another day, started out like any other”. Unfortunately, the day didn’t turn out to be the best day of my life, like the song. It did end up to be one of the worst days – one when I was brutally honest, and said what I had in mind without thinking about it first. Which is good at a certain extent, because I do stress myself out about what I’m gonna say for most of the time.
Before that, let me just share to you my day. I woke up at around 8.30 in the morning, did yoga, had breakfast, sorted some of the mess in the house, the usual stuff. Then, there were the highlights: My mom and I fought yesterday and I called truce with her by helping out with making lunch, sort of, so all’s well. I got a call from one of my bestest friends back in uni, probably barely a one-minute call but made me genuinely smile. I also got to catch up with one special person, and that made me happy, at least for a while.
Then came the damned night. I was online in Facebook, chatting with my real-life friends, browsing through my groups, etc. I knew something was wrong with me. Maybe I was feeling really sleepy, I don’t know. What I do know is most of the time, I didn’t know what I was saying. Like word vomit.
And then I sent my close friend a message. I don’t know what came over me, but suddenly I just felt like humiliating myself in front of her and making myself look pathetic by discussing with her my lovesick issues. And we did talk about it. I don’t even remember most of the conversation, I wasn’t myself at all, but when it ended, I felt horribly, appallingly terrible.
The conversation came to a epiphany with this:
Me: wait, what does this even lead to? [what was my problem again?] ooh. there i remember. oh. yes. i want to be friends, but [we] can’t be friends, even though we’re actually friends. hahaha [f] my brain.
Friend: you can’t be friends because your brain knows that you wanted him, [like] it was stored in your database that he is a frustration, by that, i mean something you wanted so badly but couldn’t get. [get it?]
Man, that was a bitch-slap. A big, hard, solid bitch slap. The type that hurts but something you secretly ache for (pun intended). Something I badly needed – because even though I was fully aware of the premises of my so-called ‘trouble’ with love, I had a blind spot. I failed to see that I actually do have feelings for him, and if I continue trying to be friends with him while I have these feelings, I’d just end up hurting myself more than I already am. And it’s not gonna be untainted, pure, genuine friendship at all.
And it’s just gonna turn out weird, I just know now.
But like I said, I needed it. And I felt truly terrible after that conversation, as I started to see things in a way I never even dared to glance before.
So yeah. No more thinking about him in a pseudo-friendly light. Now that somebody pointed it out to me, I see it. I can’t pretend and twist my way around these feelings I still have for him. I can’t fool myself anymore, and yeah, I’m kinda thankful for it. That also means letting go.
I felt like a part of me just got killed. The part that still holds on to him. Murdered by the truth.
On the bright side, I see it now.
Thank whatever force there is, I have a friend who knows me all too well to bitch-slap me, hard, back into reality.
The truth may not be the prettiest thing ever, it may hurt you so much it breaks you, but it does set you free. It rids you of that blind spot, whatever that’s holding you down, so you can see more clearly and get set to walk in a new direction, one that leads you to where you’re supposed to be.
Note: Wrote this way, way back. Meh, might as well publish it. A sincere rambling, I must say, though slightly hypocritical. Idk, maybe you’ll get something out of it. I did (I think?).