Live to the Max

I’m a liar now.

“I’m fine.” Lie.

“I’m doing okay.” Lie.

“It’s getting easier with time.” Lie.

Am I lying for them?

Or, am I lying for me?

Maybe both. I’m not totally sure.

There is a lie behind every smile and each forced laugh. A lie in any outward sign of progress that life is returning to normal.

All of it, lies.

I lie because I must.

The truth is an unwelcome guest at every table.

The truth brings an uncomfortable tension that seems to settle in the room like a heavy fog.

The truth pollutes all subsequent celebrations with a distracting sadness.

The truth obligates a forced exchange of sympathy and condolences.

The truth is too heavy to carry alone, and yet far too burdensome to share.

The truth is a deep darkness from which there is no escape.

So, I lie. I must.

For now? Or, forever?

Perhaps someday I’ll have an honest smile again.

Perhaps someday the fog will lift and I’ll wholeheartedly rejoin life’s celebrations.

Perhaps my presence won’t always prompt feelings of pity.

Perhaps I’ll somehow learn to successfully live in the dark.

Perhaps…

Yes, I am a liar now, perhaps not forever.