Musings

7. Truth?

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Alessia wrote.
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Sometimes, the truth is a burden. Apparently the truth hurts because it has a "point". Some guy said that. A weird way to put it, but a way all the same.

Sometimes, saying the real thing can be a harmful thing, however you put it. Because people have a way of over analyzing statements, twisting them, and misunderstanding simple things. Sometimes people just don't listen. They hear what they expect to, consciously or not. And the rest becomes immaterial.

And the sad part is that some have let society make them so insecure that they themselves expect to be told things which would hurt them. Which would confirm their 'belief' that everything in the universe is out to get them. They don't even let themselves see the better side of what's happening.

They just expect things to end. To pass. That things will never stay the same. That positivity comes at a price that they will pay. And it will be costly.

I am like that. I don't know what makes me think that way. But I do. And it is sad that I know that it is pointless to over-think to this level and I still do.

Because somehow I revel in my sadness. I rejoice that I can be this upset and get over it. In some twisted way it shows me my strength.

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But this was a different kind of thought.

This thought was unexpected. This thought induced fear, not pain. This thought implied that she hadn't been careful. This thought said that she still hadn't learnt:

Never to hope.
Never to care.
Never to trust.

She was letting him in.

That was the truth. She was letting him see what she actually was. And the was a very strange thing.

She never really opened up to people about the cause of her sadness unless she knew them really well and she could believe, with every fibre of her being, that they wouldn't tell anyone and they wouldn't judge.

But she was telling him things.

She was letting him see what she was like. She was allowing him to see through her eyes. And she was a miffed. To put it lightly.

She wondered how he had managed to have such an effect on her. How she hadn't realized what he was doing to her. Actually, she had realized. But she hadn't stopped it. That was worrying.

She was scared.

Scared of going down that same road that she had travelled with him, with him.

She had to decide:

To hope or not to hope?
To care or not to care?
To trust or not to trust?

Safety or a chance at happiness?

She would have to decide fast -
Whether she wanted to accept the truth or dismiss it and live in denial till her feelings passed.