Why do we have to go through our lives trying to decipher who is lying and who is not? Why do people spend so much energy (and money) pretending to be what they are not? Why is a promise given no longer a promise honored? When did the value of a promise die?
I believe the fact that I ask myself these questions explains why I am becoming more and more the hermit. I do not want to sit and listen to pretty, meaningless words and try to determine if any of them are even the truth?
This is why I prefer the company of my pets and other animals to the company of humans.
The dog next door does not like me. I don’t think she even likes herself. She charges out of her front door snarling and growling while yanking on her owner’s arms in an effort to get to who knows where, to do who knows what? But I know that animal does not like me. Her owner, who smiles and sometimes waves, probably doesn’t either. That’s all right. I don’t like her. Who has an animal with that much animosity? What kind of person “nurtures” such a beast? Animals do not become unpleasant by themselves. People do not become liars alone either.
Liars learn from one another. I was mostly nurtured in a church where the truth was supposedly valued and I was taught not to lie. It occurred to me in recent years that I had put myself at a disadvantage by always telling the truth. Liars knew exactly who I was and how to manipulate me.
I thought maybe I could beat them at their own game, but lying just isn’t natural to me and my lies would be met with the incredulous “You’re the WORST liar I ever met”. Besides, it’s a lot of work to keep up with lies you tell and I just have better uses of my energy.
I am cleaning in the room my cat mostly stays in. She is out and about in the other parts of the house, skipping and running and showing how glad she is to have a new mirror brought in and her floors cleaned and her linens changed. My dog, on the other hand, is sulking in her room because she is not getting the cat’s attention right now. These actions I understand. People who smile in my face while waiting for me to turn my back so they can stab it confuse me. That is probably how they want me to feel . Confused. How about instead, I feel alone?
My grandmother once told me that she had rather live with a thief than a liar. So had I. My meager group of friends will possibly grow smaller because I detest liars and have no use for them. I recently found out a friend -or a person I thought was a good friend – was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Why do we always blame ourselves when good liars fool us? But to get back to my first question, Why do we have to go through our lives trying to decipher who is lying and who is not?