What can one want from people when the thing he wants is the antithesis of himself? How honest can someone really be to the world, without betraying something else?
Pressure. It builds inside. It's a zit on your face that yearns to be popped; the kind that's so big it leaves people asking where you got your face lift. It's a pressure that, if squeezed too early, can damage everything, even non related things. It's a pressure that acts like a drug: it's irresistible in the pay off but it's so short term, and you ALWAYS have yourself to face afterward.
It's the pressure of lying.
We all lie in some way. Even innocently to our children that there's a Santa Claus or not so innocently as to say that you love someone when you do not. Each is damaging in a way, but each builds a sort of character, a piece of yourself. I believe that to be true. But I also believe that building anything from a lie is damaging and will fall to destruction when caught. . . if it ever is.
I am sorry. I will bow to Humility and Truth, the way I was made to. The way I think and operate. I am sorry I lied to you. I want nothing more than to confess to you, and to hope that I can build from the ashes of fire. I lied to you. . .
I will not be led astray again. . .
- The Pressure of Lying