How can blindness be a choice? To disregard reality in favor of the half truth happy and defend that position. Never seeing others experiences, never seeing others. Living in that echo chamber. Fed scraps of food coated and spun into full meals. Mostly consisting of false nutritional content. Selective memory of the shining past. Like it was a wonder of enlightenment instead of the brutish truth.
We are flawed liars. Picking only those truth which most suit our narrative. Resisting any deviation from the TRUTH. As if truth did not slither and shift as new facts are gained. As if, from minute to minute, reality itself didn’t change.
People quote, “The only constant is change,” while forcing their eyes closed and covering their ears.
And when confronted with a different opinion, stamp their feet and throw a tantrum.
A world full of people unwilling to see. Unwilling to hear. Unless forced to. How do we survive our own willful ignorance? I’m not sure that we will.
Knowledge is the price of freedom
It always has been.
Not the not knowing…ignorance is slavery
No, the price of freedom is Knowing
Unpleasant, often horrible, truths
Which is why humanity spends so much time and energy hiding
Retreating and backpedaling from the reality that they see
Rising up in glorious moments of comprehension
until they see one truth too many and it sends them scurrying back to the poisoned lullaby sleep of ignorance
That slip back into “simpler times”
The false memories of how good it used to be
Disregarding that it was the persuit of knowledge and a deep distrust of willful ignorance that little by little
dragged you into the a future filled with wonders
Never before in history has humanity had so much
Even the poorest of us
trapped in imposed cycles of blood and poverty have to hand more luxury than ever seen before
And still, the people with the most keep falling back
Keep retreating from truth because
its hard, its so hard
Like children whose days of play have been ripped away
trying for one more minute of ignorance
unwilling to pay the butchers bill that their ignorance has accrued
Instead doubling down again and again
that fevered gambler hoping desperately that they can eak out one more turn of the cards
while the world around them burns,
at last we come to the end of knowledge
abutting its happy and callous head against Truth
Where choices matter more and more
the world changes on a whim
Forged by those who’ve forgotten that it’s the
Enlightened part of self interest that makes civilization work
I hate keeping secrets. Even lies by omission hurt.
I spent a portion of my youth on secrets. On lies. It almost killed me. It came close. At the end, all I had was money, scars, and grey hair. The money is gone. The scars are mostly faded. The grey hair stayed. And a deep abiding pain that accompanies lies.
I spent years clawing out of various closets. Sexuality, society, BDSM. And at the end of it, I found peace.
But still people want me to hide. To be discreet. To say it’s no one’s business but ours.
But let me tell you. It may be no one’s business but ours, but it’s on them to turn their heads. Hiding is lying. Discretion is fine, but it should not stop a kiss or a hug or holding hands. If it does then that’s fear.
Just because I can hide or lie; Because I practiced for years, doesn’t mean I enjoy it. I loathe it.
I understand why hiding may be necessary. If life or liberty is on the line. But if not? It’s not worth the cost.
And sometimes, even life and liberty are not enough. We should be who we are. Shout it from the rooftops. And to those that would silence us, let them reap the consequences. Let them fear.
I said I didn’t like lying. I didn’t say I’d forgotten my past.
I am trying for the opportunity
The opportunity to stand by you. To work with you and help elevate you. The opportunity to hold you and keep the demons who would harm you at bay and the opportunity to scold your demons who lie and sow confusion. The opportunity to throw open and embrace all of the parts of you and show you the way back out of the darkness of those desires.
I want to give you the best and worst parts of me because I aim to give you truth and I can’t do that by hiding my faults. I want to watch your smile flower and never leave you. I want to show you how wrong those who’ve hurt you were. Even though I know you know that they were wrong I want to help you heal those deep parts that still don’t believe it. I want to walk in the sunlight without fear. Your hand in mine, eyes held high, daring the world to say something. I want you to meet my friends and see them roll their eyes at how cute we are together. I want you to meet my family and cringe as they say the stupid shit I know they’ll say. I want you to never have to guess what I’m feeling. I want you to never have to endure silence. I want to hear your voice every day. I want to hear you laugh all the time. I want all of the private things you think and want in your mind and heart to be the the words in my ear that gets you those things. Pain, orders, stability, sex. The sure and absolute place in my heart and world that never waivers. I aim to be yours. Forever. I’m working towards that. Things are weird, things are hard. There is confusion. But never waiver, never doubt that by your side, on your side, I will always be. Whatever happens.
“You are not a monster. The world is monstrous at times, and there are those who would have you believe that you are terrible by association.
You are are not Worse for your association with the world, but it is better for its association with You.”
Paraphrase from Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson
This made me cry. Made me howl in pain. Because, is this not what people who really know me have been saying. And I’ve been saying sure, yes, you’re right. But I didn’t see it. Couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see that I was not, in fact, a monster. Until I read this. Until it broke me.
I can see how I may have been wrong now. That I may not be a monster. Or not the bad kind of monster anyway.
We are all thin veneers of lies and pain and truths we’ve woven into who we think we are. And if we crack the surface, the darkness can spill out or in depending on our internal equilibrium. But the darkness is not evil, just as the light is not good. Rather a balance of forces. And choices. We can choose to be honorable. We can choose to take care of ourselves and our friends and family. To show kindness to strangers. To see those who are unseen. We can choose to hide. We can choose.
But only if we accept that our impact on the world is tangible. And if it is tangible, would we not prefer it to be a thing of beauty?
It’s odd, really. My family sees the boy I was. And, rightfully, they see the darkness that consumed him.
But I am not that boy any longer. And still they cannot see the man. But I know… I know others do. And now, I think I see him a bit too.
Your voice is a deep pool of laughter and bright
I’d spend my days crafting words for you to speak
they create shivers down my spine
And wake desires with but a innocent turn of phrase
Life is but a series of moments strung together by your presence and the undying hope of forever
In this life or I will find you in the next
We belong to each other
“You mean you don’t keep composing letters to her in your head? You don’t keep wanting to tell her how wretched you are, but then you don’t send them, because what if she took you back because you were wretched? How terrible that would be, you tell yourself. When something happens—something funny, or interesting, or sad—you look around to tell her about it, then you remember. And you want to tell her that is going on, but you don’t, because you don’t want to add to her burdens, only you do want to add to her burdens, and you hate that you want to add to her burdens. You wonder if she’s seeing someone else, and you hope she is, and you hope she isn’t, and you hate that it matters so much. And maybe you’ve found someone else yourself, but you worry that it isn’t fair to her, and then you worry that you shouldn’t worry about that, and then it infuriates you that you’re spending so much time thinking about it, and so it turns into aimless grief.”
If someone ever harmed the person I pledged myself to they would burn. I would tear down the world and reap a hurricane of death and pain. I would call armies and madmen to my banner. I would bath the world in blood until they were returned to me. No impedement, not even death would stop me. No creature, man, or god would dare stand against me. Everything I am or ever will be, I would sacrifice for their safety.
I would tear down reality. Nothing would bar my way. Not for long.
To want for wanting
A simple kiss burned through with needing
Desires unrealized for the dreaming
For who would kiss the flame
It seeks to devour
To transform self and else
But needs a fuel for burning
Having lost all truth itself
Comfort and steady
Steals the hope from our hearts
Holds just enough
To keep one foot in front of the other
Forward is the only way to go
Complacent whispers a story of good enough
That in the night rings solemn
A mournful bell slow to wake
False ring and disappointed half smiles
Never quite forgiven
Unable to forget
Just kiss and wake me up
Slow acceptance of a beaten
The tenderest of truths
is the faintest slip of a lie
A truth withheld
becomes the well of tarnished voices
Effluvia pours free
Drowning dreamer and dream
A truth spoken
A blade slick with blood
Cut my flesh
A thousand times
I’ll not fester in secret
I’ll be your truth
If you’ll be mine