‘The devil is a liar, but then we’re also too believing.’
I remember writing my New Year article for 2016 and thinking I had such a rough 2015. 2016 probably just chuckled and nodded.
Two weeks before this week, I would pick up my writing device after a long day and just jumble some words together. I confess that I did not enjoy writing any of my recent articles because I did them just to fulfill all righteousness. I did not know why I felt that way but I just could not bring myself to expend energy on writing.
This past week though, I gave up all together. I just quit. In fact, when I forgot to write on the first day and I remembered the next day, I just hissed at myself and turned my body on the bed.
Today, however, I woke up and it felt like I suddenly had a clear head and a concrete understanding of what was going on with me: I use my emotions when I write. And if emotions are the ink to my paper, I have honestly run out of ink.
2016 has been such a super intense year for me, I won’t even lie. And it’s a weird kind of intense because the surface looks so calm and uneventful but there has been so much going on within me and in my inside life; good and not good things.
But then, this morning when the thoughts came to my head, I started to panic. I was thinking how much of a roller coaster my emotions have been this year and if I would ever recover; and also how much damage might have been done to my psyche already. I began to feel sick about myself. My mind began to take itself through flashes of events this year which validated the proposition already forming and I began to feel like a liar even to myself. It was so weird.
But then, I was washing plates in the kitchen and then, I don’t know how, but I made myself laugh really hard. So, normally I have these really random thoughts that can be really funny or really scary sometimes and I don’t know where they come from but I welcome them; especially the funny ones.
Today’s own at the kitchen sink was about a man of substance. The man was commonly referred to as a man of substance; by young and old people in his village. A newcomer to the village heard them call the man a man of great substance and said, ‘Wow… he must be so
Today’s own at the kitchen sink was about a man of substance who lived in a village. The man was commonly referred to as a man of substance; by young and old people. A newcomer to the village heard the villagers call the man a man of great substance and said, ‘Wow… he must be so hard working and virtuous. What does he do?‘ And the villagers replied, ‘Oh well… he takes a shitload of cocaine and heroin and opium. You know, all the great stuff’
That was my joke. I switched from looking out of the window and thinking where my life was headed, to laughing like an idiot all by myself.
And while I laughed, I realised I was laughing maybe one of the most 100% genuine laughs I’ve had in a while now. And it dawned on me, that happiness is a choice; not a gift. You don’t say ‘I will be happy once I get to be‘, you say, ‘I will be happy because I will be and ‘to be’ is a verb’
When we get sad, it’s mostly because of something we have believed. For me, it was a bunch of lies. I realised that there are two sides to a lie – the telling and the believing. And then one of my random thoughts came again: The devil is a liar, but then we’re also too believing.