Living Proof

One of my first experiences with things becoming inconsistent was my childhood upbringing. From being raised to ‘do the right thing’ from watching my parents getting taken away by the FBI at a very young age. At first I was infuriated that I had been lied to all my life, but then I realized how human my parents actually were. They did everything to provide a home for their family, even if . . . Although my trust for people dwindled a tad, my ability to forgive them was quite easy to do. They were like me. They lied to keep things calm. I lied to them about my whereabouts or if I had gone out drinking with my friends. “No mom, I didn’t drink. ...I didn’t smoke.” I lied. I was inconsistent. My mom was always quick to forgive me, even when she caught me with a cigarette dangling from my lying mouth or found a slew of beer cans stashed away in a big bag behind my bureau. My friends were always envious that I never got a “real” punishment. The most my mom would do was pull my private t...

3 o’clock rolled around and it was time for my morning jolt of a double espresso. I walked into the local bakery instead of a Starbucks or a Duncan Donuts chain, and bumped into an old friend from years ago. We talked for a while and even had our coffee together to catch up a little. Earlier in the day, I had gotten into an argument with someone close to me. It definitely showed on my face and my friend isn’t the type to hold back not say anything. She called me out on it. Within a matter of five seconds, I tried to conjure up any excuse, “Didn’t sleep at all last night”, “Just getting over a cold”, “Sinuses”, “I just didn’t age well”, and the good ol’ “I’m just hungover.” I used to tell this friend every single thing about my life, but today was different. Today I felt censored. Today I was reprimanded by someone who had read my blog and basically threw a tantrum fit over my feelings. They were feelings of the past. Regardless of anything, I feel like my words, my actions as w...