What Would You Do?

What lie would you tell to get what you want? Does it matter what that want is? Do the ends justify the means? Is there any reasoning you can use?

Life is not perfect. The world is not perfect. That is kind of the point, at least that is what I believe. But think about it, if nothing is perfect does than mean we should all do what we will and forget the consequences?

My mama always told us that she’d rather have the ‘gosh awful truth than a pretty lie.’ I’ve heard others say that they didn’t want to know the truth because it wasn’t something they wanted to deal with.

Do you want the truth?

Yes. No. Maybe. Bend it a little?

–Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted

The truth is something fragile and beautiful and dangerous, just like an antique sword that will never lose its edge. It is something that can heal your soul and destroy you all in the same swipe. It is something to be respected and feared and loved all in one moment.

Lies have destroyed people, people I love and care about.

Truths have mangled what would have been joyous moments with dark and gleeful tar.

Both things help people and both hurt people.

They are tools that must be wielded carefully and with good judgement or not touched at all.

 

There is always something hidden away

Revolting in its fear

Unless, of course, the light of day

Ever brings it in the clear.

 

Forgiveness is not something easily found

And fragile in its own right.

Lost and so far from the ground

So keep your endpoint in sight.

Even the dark can  give you rest.

 

It’s not an easy decision, but it is one that each of us have to make.

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Lazy Teen – Day Sixteen

Had enough time for everything,

Never on the run.

Plenty of time for fun,

More time for myself

Reading books upon my shelf.

No worries or cares,

Don’t really have to share.

Selfish with my time,

Could turn around on the dime.

This was my life at sixteen.

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Written for today’s NaPoWriMo prompt (http://www.napowrimo.net/2014/04/day-sixteen/) and for today’s Daily Post prompt (https://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/only-sixteen/).

Life at sixteen was very different for me compared to my friends. At first there were only five in my house (my mother, older sister, younger sister, younger brother and me) then my second eldest sister, who was pregnant at the time, moved back in with her two small children (toddlers, one could walk…sort of). This was only slightly strange for me because I was used to lots of people in the house (I am six of eight), but I was used to being amongst the youngest group, not the eldest.

I’d never really had a curfew before that and the only reason we had one after was because sound carried in our house. If you came home and were just slightly too loud, you woke the children (and eventually, the baby) which would then wake the whole house. No one was happy about that so it was decided by all that a curfew for everyone would be set and it would be enforced by the fact that if you woke the children up (one or all three) then you had to put them to sleep by yourself. (It was considered fair by everyone.)

Life has never been the same since, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.