This Other Life II

Chapter 2: I Lie -Every Day The Same

I listen.

There is no joy that occurs in speaking to you. After all, you speak at me, above me, around me, behind me, over me, to any but me…

There is no benefit to talking to you since, even though I can accept you not respecting me as your choice, I can NOT concede that I should respect you simply because it’s your expectation; merely your standard, or some supposed social normalization, or cultural custom. All of these which mean the same, nuanced ‘differingly’ -I love digresplaning -quite unobviously.  

I listen.

Not with my ears, but with my whole being. Because there is a tell that you commit when you lie. There is a weakness, a flaw, that you reveal when you continue assaulting me with your verbal drivel. For, none of what you say can even come from your mind. Your essence doesn’t emanate that vileness because you don’t even believe what you say. Yet…

I listen.

There are so many things I know about you because of what you omit. Silence isn’t golden. It’s a language that most people don’t know how to navigate. Don’t know that the only way to learn it, isn’t to be taught how to listen or what to listen to -but to the very act of listening itself.

I listen.

Because listening bridges a gap between even fiercest of foes -more than flowery prose or well-timed mouth sounds. The birth of observation and spying is naught but eyes and ears. After all, when most upset, why would you be the one to listen to a lecture than pour out your grievances? When presence is enough. And I listen.

If I didn’t; I would still be sinking ships. There is no secret sacred enough to be treasured. Sometimes, I feel like perhaps there should be guardianship over my words. And so I listen. Because the Truth must be shared. Unless…

The truth is whatever you make of it. If and only if that was the case -if that is what you deign to believe, then I cannot listen.
Because Truth is not what you want it to be [whatever you want me to know] nor what I want to hear. Yet, it isn’t also an all or nothing; conditional; weapon. It isn’t your opinion masquerading as Truth. Even if your opinion coincides with that Truth -it is not.a.weapon. It.is.not.True.if.you.use.it.only.to.destroy.not.to.build. While Truth is unconcerned about your feelings because it is what it is -it’s still not to say that you can take Truth as your longsword of your version of justice. For when truth coincides more and more with your form of just is when you leave yourself vulnerable to its return. What shield can protect you?

Your deflection; your denial may appear successful, but is the measure by which you shall be buried. Deflection and denial digs the soft foundation on which you stubbornly stand. If Truth hasn’t moved you; cultivated you elsewhere -it will raise you from the ashes like a phoenix -created by your deflection and denial; sustained by your tears of despair…unless you embrace that rebirth…[Your] Despondent tears only nurtures the weeds and vines that remain of your deflection and denial. Surrendering those -then can fresh perspective arise from the recesses into the world. Or not. Don’t surrender your tears and re-flourish under a true premise but a false progression -All beginnings are tiny-seemingly-insignificant –

I hear the torrential rains and bask in your unsurrender. Those who don’t learn are swept in the current of time. This is why, even change has foundational roots. Change isn’t something so haphazard, random, arbitrary or unsystematic as people have come to make it mean/seem. And yes, I used ‘current’ in the singular since Time is real only in so much as physical beings continue to be affected by its aftermaths.