We owe it to the people that we love to be honest with them, even if that honesty says we don't love them as much or in the way they love us back. We owe it to them and ourselves to not surprise them, to not hold back.
But sometime, it's too late, too late for honesty to not be a surprise, sometimes, for our own reasons, we held back, held back for too too long, and now this shift will come with shock and shake the world of a person whom we care about so dearly, to whom we've lied by omission.
It's a hurtful safety we offered to ourselves and them for this long; it's a protective destructive force that we've harnessed this long. It's a bomb built by avoiding that which will now explode. It's a device constructed out of years of our own pain, it's a construct built by lies and brought down with yet more of that which we desired not.
Only now we've tied another to it and are passing it on, unintentionally of course, but nonetheless, now to destroy that which helped protect and create a house in which to avoid, we open the door to even more pain. It was a distraction, a foolish attempt at plastic happiness. Fake. Not our own, but theirs, feigned, in front of them, by the lie we thought would save, but all it did was save up to blow open and flood onto another we love.
Sometimes honestly is a very sad truth, but only for a short time after the lies have died, only for a short time after the fantasy has faded, only for a short time after our ability to connect to it and voice it, articulate it has come to us. It's the lies that make honesty a painful thing to face.
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