You deceive yourself into thinking you have enough time. That tomorrow you’ll begin, that tomorrow you’ll be ready. When in reality, you will never be ready; you will only become better at self-deception, more adept at short-circuiting the winding, buzzing parts of your curious mind.
You lie to your own heart. You tell yourself that you love your partner even when you know in your heart of hearts that you don’t. You hush your heart – and over time, it becomes conditioned to never speak at all.
You should be terrified that you’ll stay in that worn-out city for far too long, but instead, you tell yourself you’ve already made it your home. And that it’s better to push forward, building a foundation with ruins, than it is to start anew.
You tell yourself that it’s too late. That your window of opportunity is indefinitely shut, that you’ve squandered the only time you had to turn things around. You affirm and reaffirm that you must, for purpose and principle, lie in the bed you’ve made.
You dissuade yourself from taking the enchanting road, because you’ve force-fed yourself every bite of the most tasteless lie: that security is far more important than authenticity.
You tell yourself you’re on the right path. That you’re being ambitious, chasing the right things – but you know that if you stopped to really think about it, to really feel into it, that you might not be so sure.
You should be horrified that you may trick yourself into mistaking society’s voice for your inner one; terrified that you’ve been holding your own hand, yet you’ve lead yourself down the wrong path.
You lie to others and you feel guilt; you lie to yourself and you say it’s for your own good. And still within that justification, you’ve lied to yourself again.