Telling the truth about something shameful is an interesting bargain.

We exchange being a worse person who is seen as better, for being a better person, who is seen as a worse one.

That is, we go from being an immoral person who everybody trusts, to a moral person who everybody condemns.

We downgrade our reputation and suffer losses for the deeply soulful result of living in truth once again.

There is something about living a lie that is a bit like holding your breath underwater or going around caked in dirt no one else can see. It’s a pure relief then, finally taking a breath or finally being clean.

 

The outrage people feel, learning they were lied to, is also interesting.

I want to clarify what harm was done.

A lie places the victim in a false location. They are lost but they don’t know it.

A lie steals their autonomy and volition. It prevents self-defense and self-preservation.

A lie repudiates all the moments it seemed but only seemed, we were loved.

A lie reveals our value to the liar: a convenience, not a treasure.

While the lie was believed we didn’t know where we were, or who we were with.

Terrifying.

They might as well have thrown us in a sack.

 

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