By practising 'confessional' simulations, we follow Orwell's lead that “in times of deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.”
A “truth speaker” faces the soft lies they’ve told the world that gradually eroded their self-respect. By calling it for what it is, the strength of their convictions instantly returned.
I close my eyes to face my lies.
I tell people I’ve lived in America. When really, I only ever travelled through. A bizarre type of namedropping. A marketing ploy based on a very loose set of facts. This lie is my version of Botox. Deception by appearance. If I could make it in America, then I must be a special breed. Smarter, smoother and more successful than the average chump. In truth, my twenties have been far less lavish than a $10,000-per-month apartment.
I return home to my parent’s house at age thirty. No house, no car, no fortune. And I’ve never been happier. Everything I ever wanted was always in front of me. Family, friends and a relationship with God. The lie of where I’ve lived is over. Nothing is like home. I sit in the park where I grew up. Marvelling at the beauty of a simple life. Grounded in appreciation, connected to truth. If I ever end up in America, it won’t be because I do not love who I am or where I came from.