Being far too honest is always a risk, a danger. Beware friend of friends, lest you pay the awful price. There's an honest transparency that can kill the mind and soul, telling the whole truth. Love is a lie we tell each other, and we do it because we love each other. Love is many other things, understand. Love is real. Love is true. Love is also, however, this sweet, safe lie with which we protect the souls we hold dear. There's a reality at the core of every individual that breaks the heart, too stark to see clearly. The one thing you cannot afford, in such a world, is the truth. Not the whole truth. Anything but the truth.
Were I a man of means I'd hire people to do different sorts of jobs. I'd hire one team of professionals to research all the ways we are all the same. No slouches these, real analysts with open minds strong and agile. Another team, equally skilled, would be employed to determine all the ways we are all different. I'd send agents looking for the kindest people in each community. What makes one good? What makes one truly kind? We'd work hard and be well-rewarded for our labors. Also there would be dancers. Many, many dancers. These I would place strategically in all the most important places.
I want to be the Spartan soul who can live in the stark reality of the whole truth, but I know I cannot be. I may want stupid things, but I'm not dumb. Tell me sweet lies if you must, just don't crush my soft, soft soul.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
