I sat down with an angel whose life experience spans from savage as a demon, devious as a devil to a well of wisdom. From a distance, she sways her being in sexiness and walks like she lawfully owns the land her feet step on. Mesmerising like a true goddess. Her presence is both amazing and overwhelming.
Have you ever been lied to…. As I open my mouth to respond, she continues as though this is a rhetorical question… So often that even the truth starts sounding unfamiliar? That lies bring you more than just comfort? They start becoming you, you in them intertwined; the truth becomes scary. You feel the need to lie even when there is not enough to hide? No? Good for you, some of us have been around; up, down, in, out, hurt, depressed wished upon death longed to live, smiled, laughed somewhat loved but not fully witnessed honesty.
Once upon a lie lived the truth. Once upon a life lived a human. Before you fool anyone else, you fool you. Now this is the realisation, before it was just a far-fetched thought that resembled everything I no longer cared to remember.
I was almost certain she once touched base with earth. This beauty of vividly placing wisdom so magically in ones tongue has to have been schooled by the great ones who witnessed life before we.
When my mom, in the middle of a highly opinionated conversation about men who can’t accept women with children, intentionally squeezed in the fact that the man I had known for then the 25 years of what I accepted as my life was not my father; life stopped and earth spun a little faster. I quickly forgot my thoughts and only the heart fulfilled its duty. My eyes were seeing things I can not in this case remember. Wow! So its true every family has a secret. Now it makes sense, people always asked why I don’t look like my siblings.
I had a lot of unanswered questions. My head was playing endless unresolvable quiz games. I did not know what to want, which question to ask first. It was like a fly was annoyingly going around my head and my hands were too short to distract its motion. At the same time I was in a strange way relieved; I did not have the genes of a man my mother mistakenly chose as a husband. That was great news because according to me, his genealogy needed to end. The world needed not of his kind in its future.
Joking about him probably not being my father – because most of the time he completely ticks even the boxes the future men trashers are still yet to invent, was suddenly a reality and bloody hell I did not expect it to be this shocking but equally numbing. I was unsure about my mother; I couldn’t believe her secret. I AM THE SECRET. Worse part I am instructed to continue keeping this a secret and never bother diving into conversation about my real father. I just have to draw my own conclusions and take joy in that for that’s all I am getting.
From where I was sitting my mother seemed FINALLY relieved. Her eyes had the obviously-this-is-not-a-big-deal look and her shoulders looked less burdened. As I sat on a chair that suddenly felt like it was hardening my butt, thinking empty thoughts, I couldn’t believe the facts of my life. I suddenly felt the need to be silent for as long as the silence can take the silent.
This is life and how I came to is in my case not a big deal. However I have lots of unanswered questions. The people have had the most loveless marriage in the history of marriages. They hardly talk, be it over the phone or anywhere else. They are like cooking oil and the scalp; yes that’s a bad simile but you get my point. They can tolerate each other but the consequences are dire. Now I get it though, my mother puts up with a loveless marriage knowing very well that she deserves better so she continues living her seemingly perfect life and concealing one thing that is obviously-not-a-big-deal so she stands on pedestals she has no business standing in.
She has chosen to live a life of regret, constant anger, hiding behind the church yet knowing exactly what she is worth. Being fully aware of who she is and what she can do.
When she was done speaking I looked at my own life, questioned my existence, looked through the eyes of my head – my own lies. I realised that a smile could be a sham. We walk in pride to only spend minutes upon minutes in toilet seats wondering, crying, wishing things were better and promising ourselves we are going to work harder better, smarter to continue concealing, so that it is never revealed. At the same time, do we really know who we are or do we only take what we’re being told and run with it? What is our truth and how do we weigh its worth? If our truth had to suddenly be rendered untrue, will we have enough will power to reconstruct a new life from there? I too had unanswered questions. I wondered about the many things we’re told we are: lost generation for one. Are we lost because we did not get enough truth? And who was/is meant to bring this truth to us. Anyway what is truth? After so many lies that we’ve been told, how much of unlearning and relearning will be enough? I do not know, life seems to be a LOT. There seem to be less truths and more lies and our facial expressions never run out of memes when truths come out and the heart unfortunately seems to always be caught off guard.
We really carry so much burden, bestowing on ourselves the weight that comes with lies is unnecessary and rather stupid. Once upon a lie lived a truth and we must ALWAYS choose the virtue of honesty.