The Ambiguist

Why couldn't I bring myself to tell you the truth? The truth was always the best elixir. Until it wasn't. But I'm pretty sure that it always is. Yes, it is. I went back and forth and back and forth in my head about all of this and I finally made my mind up. Yes, I was going to tell you the truth. Once and for all. Because that's what good people do, don't they?

And you think I am a good person, right? I mean, I know I am a good person. With the exception of that time that we concocted the heist of a black crayon from our classroom, we lived a clean life, you and I. Well, you more than I, don't you think?

I can't seem to forgive myself very well, but I think you are a better person than I, wouldn't you agree? Yes, I should say so. But you should say so, too. And then you'll ask me 'why?' And I won't have a good answer for you because the best thing I could come up with is 'because I said so.' And that won't mean much coming from me. Right?

Yes, that's right.

I think.

But the truth takes the cake. And the house. And the table. And the chairs. And if you just let me say it to you this once, and only once, then maybe, just maybe, we will be on an even keel, you and me.

Or at least in stride with a smudge more compassion.

Yes, compassion.