What if we actually decided to be honest about what we were thinking? What we were feeling?
What if we actually said what we meant to say instead of a redefined, edited and manufactured version of our thoughts? Our feelings? Our emotions?
What if we didn’t hide behind messages of “it’s fine” or “it’s not a big deal” and we told it like it is?
What if we allowed ourselves to live and breathe authenticity and not ignore everything with blinders on? What if we saw and responded without the use of rose-colored glasses?
Why can’t we just live in a world where we tell the people that we love, that we love them?
These questions race through my mind as I think about speaking to you, reaching out to tell you how I feel,
but I am halted by my pride so I hide like always, behind a facade of laughter and nonchalance.
In time, all these questions find their answers: realizations contemplated after epiphanies cultivated,
To be honest means to be truthful with myself, that’s a pill I am not ready to swallow.
To say what I mean, means to be real with myself and all that I feel in a world so hallow and cold.
Truth can be a fickle thing, coated in a syrup too sticky to lay my fingers on.
I wish I could embrace it, change it and swallow it whole,
Food for thought.