I am a terrible liar. Withholding truth manifests as physical discomfort in my body. Perhaps, this is why my five-year-old knows more about where babies come from than most of his peers, and I will probably end up buzz killing the tooth fairy. If there was an opposite for compulsive liars, it would be me. I am compulsively honest.
My propensity toward the truth doesn’t mean I never lie, or skew the facts. There are aspects of my life, which I choose not to share on this blog, for example, as well as the general societal expectations, such as not telling a stranger you find there outfit unattractive. We all have to navigate our own reality.
We are a society craving authenticity. We want to experience things that are tangible and real. We want to read an article and not have to second-guess its motives. We want to follow our favorite influencers and trust they are presenting their true selves.
What is truth? Seems like a simple enough question to answer. Truth means facts. Truth is real. Truth is right. Truth cannot be debated or skewed. There is the truth and there are lies. Continue reading