searching – Mad Girl Writing

Lies are Exhausting

“Lies are exhausting,” said the heart.

“But some things mustn’t be said,” said the brain. “Sometimes the truth does more harm than good. What’s more important to you? Truth or peace?”

“Can’t the two co-exist? Doesn’t truth seek justice?”

“The truth seeks nothing but itself,” said the brain. “The truth is selfish, if you ask me. It wants the spotlight. It wants to be heard. And it has a right to be, but in reality, whether or not the truth is uttered, the truth still is, regardless.”

“But the truth must be sought, must be proven, must be shared, must be lived,” said the heart. “It mustn’t be suppressed.”

“The truth is never suppressed,” said the brain. “The truth just is. People choose their own truths and choose their own lies. People are free to choose. And each choice comes with sacrifice. That’s when one must prioritize.”

“But lies are exhausting,” said the heart. “And you yourself can’t even keep up. Each time a lie is uttered, another must be made to cover it up. Must we lie? Doesn’t the truth set you free?”

“The truth only unburdens the liar,” said the brain. “It’s impossible to appease everyone. The truth is uncomfortable and it stings. Once uttered, it merely becomes a burden to someone else.”

“But the truth is not a burden! Lies are the burden! Lies wrap me in shadows,” said the heart. “Lies choke my breath. Lies are exhausting. Lies make a fool of everyone. The truth is the truth—it simply is, as you said—and so it must be. It’s a lesson for the ears that don’t want to hear it. The truth is inevitable. It doesn’t go away.”

“The truth!” said the brain. “Don’t you see it’s all relative? One person’s truth is another person’s lie! What is the truth if everyone chooses to believe what they will, to see what they want to see?”

“Even so,” said the heart. “Lies are exhausting. They bring me no joy.”

happiness is a unicorn

what i need is not on a map;
i am the compass.
i have struggled,
and because i have struggled,
i have lived and
i have overcome.
sometimes, only sometimes,
waking up
is the most difficult part of the day.
i don’t know where i’m going.
i’m making up my destiny
as i go along.
it’s better this way.
more scenic.
my brain is filled with contradictions.
my heart is a well of desire.
how will i change if i catch my dreams?
is it just the thrill of the chase?
i hear happiness is a unicorn.
when we arrive at our wants
she lingers,
but always eventually
she
flees the scene.

escape

only the sound of our breath
on the wind,

as stars explode,
sprinkle overhead,
poke holes in
peach-colored
sky;

bugs tell stories
in the dirt,

roots of trees
protrude from the earth,
like stiff
serpents;

weeds are welcome
here;

my dog,
sniffing along by my side,
picks up sticks,
consuming
all

with a twitching nose
pressed to
soil;

her collar tags
clicking, clacking
like keys,
tell me where she is;

stopping to rest on a log,
not a bench;

stopping never
for man-made red;

stopping never
to wait;

let’s make tracks
in the dirt,

speak only with
our eyes,

watch the sun dip,
dip,
down,
and away,

the pale sky
swells to
black,

and you find my hand;

let’s soak in silence,

forget the noise,

peel it away from our
skin,
cut it away from our
hair,
tuck it away in a mason
jar,

bury it beneath

unpicked,
flowers,

beneath
rocks
that dot the earth
like buttons,

beneath
leaves that fell away,
away,

away from branches,
twigs and stems;

the air is warm
but not for long;

the sun is rising
elsewhere;

she can’t escape her
purpose.