Don’t Tell The Truth
I’m scared, she says. So scared.
Of what? I asked.
Hate, she whispers. I’m so scared that this hate will never go away.
I tell her it will. I tell her to forget about it. To smile and keep moving, because it will all be fine.
I don’t tell her that I feel the same.
I don’t say what I really think.
That it will always be there. That it will call itself hurt, pity, regret, distrust, or sorrow. That it will fester and never fully heal.
No matter the time passed. The years spent in wasted effort.
I don’t tell her the truth.
Because I want to believe my lies too.
The hardest lies we ever tell, are the lies we tell ourselves. For only then, do we realize how great of cowards we really are.