The Things I Pretend Not to Notice
The most convincing lies are the ones we tell ourselves.
There are certain kinds of dishonesty that don't feel like lying.
I tell myself I'm tired when I'm actually disappointed. I call it being busy when I don't want to answer. I say I don't care because caring would require admitting that I do.
It's funny how easily a person can become their own accomplice.
I notice everything. The pause before someone answers. The message that gets shorter. The way a room changes when one particular person walks into it. I notice when I'm being tolerated instead of wanted.
Then I pretend I didn't.
Maybe that's what hypocrisy really is: not believing two opposite things, but believing one thing and behaving as though you believe another.
I want honesty, but I also want the comfort of my excuses.
I want to be understood, but I keep parts of myself deliberately untranslated.
I want people to tell me when I've hurt them, while quietly hoping they'll be too kind to do it.
And maybe everyone does this to some degree. We construct little stories in which we're reasonable, misunderstood, unlucky. The stories aren't always false. That's what makes them dangerous.
A lie is easier to recognize when it has no truth in it.
The harder lies are the ones built around something true.
Yes, I was hurt.
Yes, they were unfair.
Yes, I had reasons.
And yes, I could still have handled it better.
I'm trying to become less interested in being the hero of my own version of events.
Not because I think I'm secretly terrible.
Because I think I'm probably ordinary.
Capable of kindness and selfishness. Generosity and pettiness. Courage and cowardice, sometimes within the same hour.
I'd rather know that about myself than spend my life polishing the mirror until it only reflects what I want to see.
So lately, when I catch myself saying, I don't care, I try to stop.
Usually, I care.
That's the inconvenient part.
That's also the part that feels most honest.
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“May your seas be wide enough for wonder, your harbor always waiting, and your light never fail when another soul is searching.” – The Lantern Keeper