Half a year had passed, and I still hadn't told anyone about my diagnosis. The seasons had changed from hot to cold and then back to hot, just like my body. I could feel the strength leaving me. I would wake up with blood in my mouth and pain in my chest.
I dropped out of school. Everybody asked me why, and I told them that I was thinking about taking a gap year. Everybody believed me. My parents weren't happy with my decision, but I was an adult. I could do whatever I wanted.
It feels weird to be dying while everybody takes you for granted. They assume you'll still be there for them a year from now. I don't want to make them worry. But what I wouldn't give for a hand that could calm me down on those nights when I can't sleep for hours.
Truth is a weird word. You can take the truth and wrap it in lies. You can present it as the truth because, at its core, it is true. I don't want to lie to people, so I use this method. I don't think it's either good or bad. It's something in between, something that exists freely in society, in politics, and in families.
Why would someone tell a hurtful truth when they could just tell a harmless half-truth instead? It doesn't feel good to hurt people. But you can end up spiralling into so many half-truths that you no longer know what is true and what is a lie. I think this is where conflicts come from.
I told people I was going to take a gap year. They asked me how I would spend it. Would I travel? Would I save more money for my college years? I would give one answer to some people and another answer to others. But the question that made me feel the most conflicted was: What would I do next year?
I just couldn't answer it. Because I wouldn't be there. I couldn't put a little lie into it and make it sound like the truth. And I couldn't tell an outright lie either. So I would always say, "Whatever life has in store for me." And people would laugh.
My close friend asked me why I had been so distant lately. So I told her I had a lot of meditating to do. I had been thinking a lot during this time. Death would eventually push her bony fingers against my eyes and close them for me. And I didn't have the energy to do anything. I was still smoking, which certainly wasn't improving my situation.
During all that time spent thinking, I wondered how lies and truths had become so interchangeable. A bad lie was worse than a good truth. A good lie was better than a bad truth. A bad truth was worse than a bad lie. And a good truth was better than a good lie.
Even though this is a rule that should theoretically work in life, people seem to strive to lie more than they strive to tell the truth.
Truth had become the backup option, while lies were what you heard most often. I told you that if you wrapped a lie around something that was true at its core, you could present it as the truth. But I never said that it actually was the truth.
A half-truth is just as good as a lie. But a half-lie isn't the truth. It's still a lie. So, if we simplify things and say that everything belongs to one of these four categories, then 75% of the things people say would be lies.
Why did this happen?
Lies are easier to tell. And a lot of people choose the easier path over the difficult but truthful one. I am one of those people. I chose the easier path, and I feel conflicted about it. But at the same time, I feel at ease. I don't have to explain anything. I don't have to feel like a burden.
Some people talk about benevolent lies. For example, when you tell a person on their deathbed that everything will be alright, and they die with a smile on their face. I despise that, even though I do it myself.
Because you tell someone that everything will be alright, and then it isn't. If the person you're saying it to realises that you lied, they won't have a smile on their face. They'll feel betrayed. They'll start to question everything you've ever told them. They'll wonder which parts were true.
Why did I tell my friend, who was leaving to spend half a year abroad, "See you in six months"?
She was my most precious friend. She was the girl I had loved my whole life.
And I never got to say a proper goodbye.