The Beautiful Lies, The Ugly Truth

We live in a world of lies. Beautifully painted, elegantly dressed, and desperately enchanting. These lies are a mistress sent to tempt us. We are helpless to resist because she whispers the words we want to hear, and she smells like roses, and her face is painted to represent that someone we long so desperately for. The truth, meanwhile, our spouse who has stood by our side, she pleads with us in words which hurt, she smells like ashes, and her face is painted in the innocent blood which has been needlessly shed. She is ugly. The mistress is beautiful. So we turn away from the truth, and in her anger she leaves us. And we know it’s wrong but we are not all that sorry to see her go. There is guilt, of course there is guilt, deep down in that part of us where instincts still hold some power we know that what we are doing is not just sinful, its cruel. But the mistress is here to comfort us. She is here to protect us. To make the agony of our faults fade to a dull throbbing. We love her for it. Idolize her. Worship her. Her voice is a sirens song, and we are sailors drowning in her eloquent prose. Speech so elaborate sometimes its definitions are lost on us, but they sound so pretty the meanings of them seem obsolete somehow. The truth speaks in rough, simple, almost barbaric, words. They are as painful to listen to as they are easy to understand. Sharp where the lies are soft, black and white where the lies are mesmerizing hues, angry screams where the lies are gentle whispers. We are helpless. There is no weapon in the world which can be raised against a mistress so beautiful, because we cannot bear to watch her bleed. To see pain in the wide eyes behind the mask she wears on her face. The one we think is real flesh and blood. The one we can’t seem to see for what it is. A devious tool of manipulation. That’s what her perfect features are. A horribly clever trick. We are being controlled. Yanked around like mindless puppets by an unseen master. Wake up. Those beautiful lies will ruin us. The truth is ugly because we made it that way. And the longer we ignore it the uglier it gets. Look behind the mask, do you see now? Do you see what your beautiful mistress really looks like? She is far more hideous than the truth could ever dare to be. She is the pain and suffering we have ignored. The horrible traumas we have allowed because we weren’t brave enough to face our own selves. To speak our own truths and recognize them. Ignorance may be bliss, but when that ignorance fades, when our eyes open and we begin to see, we will be disgusted by what has been living beside us. What we have been flirting with, sleeping with, selling our souls to. The truth may be ugly, but she can be made beautiful. The lies may be beautiful, but they will become ugly, no matter what we do to try and prevent it. We need to open our eyes. We need to see. To understand. The mistress is the curse of humanity. Truth will be our savior. Words will be the weapon through which she conquers the lies. And words are a weapon we can all yield. Our society has monsters in its closet. Horrible creatures with names we dare not speak. And we allow them to remain there, hidden, and alive in an awful sort of way. We need to throw those doors open, allow everyone to behold the grotesque monstrosities which the mistress has kept hidden from us. Make everyone aware of what we have been turning a blind eye to. Make them see. Make them understand. The truth may be ugly, but its the beautiful lies that will ruin us.