Sometimes the truth lies in the right questions, like the ones hinted during the end to an age. You know those moments, when you find yourself sitting down with a long term partner who broke your heart and yet asked for a second chance – when you come up with plans and things this person would have to do to fix the relationship, you ask, “Can you do that for me?”
When we all know that the real question is, “Do you really want to?”
People can do things, I may have lost my faith in humanity, but never in their ability to perform – to pretend or act or even truly force themselves to do something required of them – but it’s rare to find those who truly desire, to long for self improvement and actually act on it, someone who actually cares about you more than his or her selfish motives.
Sadly, despite knowing the right question, we aren’t guaranteed getting the accurate answer.
“I really want this,” more often than not, means, “I know I can do and tolerate this.”
To what extent, nobody knows. But that is the beauty of honest people, those who will risk everything in the name of truth. Even if truth serum is nowhere in sight. They will say it, clearly, as audible as it needs be, the painful note that since their heart is not in it, they cannot do it.
How many of us here are that honest? How many are that true to their own hearts and values?
Plenty of us are low life creatures, parasites of forgiving friends and families who deserve a lot better. If only they knew. We smile through our white lies, laugh past our cheats, and sleep through our deception.
Our superpower seems to stem from our fear of being alone and abandoned. So we seize our opportunities, to fake sincerity, confessions, and honor. Don’t leave us, we aren’t that wicked – but what are we? In the end, what’s judged upon us is not how many people we have fooled into thinking we are something better, but our ability to simply love.
Then who am I to say anything on love? Love varies.
In the end we excuse our sins with, “I tried.” Nothing is more comical than people trying to do things they never wanted. And instead of having the people we hold dear walk away from our lives, we disappoint them and lay out our reasoning at their feet.
But that is distant future we talk about, and if we never even make it that far, we’re at luck. A temporary lie can do good in the long run.
So as long as nobody is crossing the line or hurting anyone, everything is good. As long as the sun still rises every morning, we still have a second chance.
And let those second chances pile up in our waste gallery, weeping over everything they missed, whatever it is they need to do once everything fades and nothing else matters.
At the very least, in the face of difficult requests everyone has thrown my way, nobody has asked me, “Do you really want to?”
What a relief.