I am a liar, plain and simple.

I put on a happy face.
I say, “I’m fine, doing much better.”
Sometimes, I lie to myself.

I say to myself, “today is going to be a better day.”
And, admittedly, it is.
Until I move.

I’m not fine.
My body is broken.
My brain betrays me…almost 24/7.
I ache physically.
I ache spiritually.
I ache.

My senses betray me.
Is this real?

I am a liar.
I’m not fine.
I am dying.
Yeah, I know.
We’re all dying.
It’s the normal conclusion to existence.
Mine is accelerated.

If everything is going to be “ok,”
Why as I type this
Tears are streaming down my face?

I am a liar to those who ask after my health.
I am not “fine.”
It’s not going to be “ok.”
I am going to die.
I am.

I don’t want to.
I’ve not thrown in the towel.
But, I’m tired.
No, not tired.
I am exhausted.

But, I’ll get up.
Wash my face.
Put on a smile.
And say,

I’m fine.
Thanks for asking.

LIAR!

Peace eludes me today.

Ciao, ciao
A pui tardi.

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2 thoughts on “I am a liar, plain and simple.”

  1. I’m glad you wrote these, I was wondering how you really were. I’m going to say something about both here. First, I’m really pleased you’ve managed to get out and about, even if it’s just a little bit, and that you’ve kicked those meds into touch. They seemed to be doing more harm than good. Of course I’m not happy you feel as you do in this poem, and I’m not going to try and offer you false reassurances. Everything is clearly not Ok. When I offered you the motherly virtual hug and ‘it will all be fine’ I wondered what that might mean, how you might receive it, hoping you didn’t think I knew some wonderful secret and that your body would get better. We both know that’s not going to happen, sadly. Being fine, to me, means dealing with what is, or at least, changing what you can and embracing what you can’t, however much you’d rather it wasn’t the case. There’s always a liberation in acceptance. I know that probably sounds like nonsense but it isn’t. That doesn’t mean it won’t be painful, but coming to terms with what’s happening can release you to be truly present in it, to say what needs saying, feel what you need to feel, share however long you have left in whatever way suits your real self, do the things you need and want to do, those precious small things that really matter, whatever they are. You haven’t got the time to mess about with pretence, with ‘I’m fines’ when you’re not. The tears streaming down your face tell me you’re living where you really are. Dare to feel sad, to rage and gnash your teeth, to love, to do and be whatever you need to. None of us know how long we have left. You may theoretically have less than many, but you still don’t know. Make the most of it, however long, including feeling your sadness. I hope you don’t mind me saying this. You know you can always count on me to be straight though. Have another hug, if it would serve in any way.

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