Promises and Lies

There I was and here I am.

I don't understand why people lie.

There they were and here they are.

Maybe because they aren't comfortable with telling me something that might make me uncomfortable or maybe they just don't want to tell me things or maybe because they just want to lie.

I hate it when people lie to me. I'd rather have them tell me straight up what the issue is or not tell me at all but this beating around the bush and bending the truth is something I don't appreciate.

Like damn, you really had to go there huh?

Lies have ruined good relationships between people. Take it as you want to. It has ruined me and others.

I have lied before. I have faced the consequences of it. Trust me, it ain't pretty.

You make up more lies to cover up the one just spoken.

Why?

Because you're scared. You're scared that they might make it in life and you won't. You're scared that they might forget you. You're scared because you are.

I'd rather have the truth be said to my face and have it rip me apart to shreds than taste the lie that is ever so sweet as a spoonful of honey.

Remember, the Bittergourd (truth) is more beneficial than sugar (lie).

In some cases, the truth and the lie hurts the same.

But, it is I who fooled myself by believing whatever was being said to my face.

There I was.

And here I am, dealing with the betrayal and the lies told to me by someone I once considered my brother.

 

The Art of Peer Pressure

There we were, lying on the bed.

I was blabbering on about 90s hip-hop and how MF DOOM is the greatest rapper and how NWA dominated the music industry for a while but then Nas put out his greatest album of all time which is “Illmatic” and how Wu-Tang Clan is known for their grittiness when it comes to rap.

There she was, listening to me blabber on about what I loved even though she knew little to nothing about it.

We were lying on the bed.

Listening to “The Art of Peer Pressure” by Kendrick Lamar, the best rapper of our time.

She asked why I loved that song.

I explained.

The song is about how Kendrick was forced into doing things which he didn’t like and how he was coerced into doing it by his friends. He raps about how they made a right then made a left and a right again, and then another right. Kendrick and his “homies” had a lucky night while evading the police.

We sat up. The song was put on repeat, but she didn’t mind that it was playing on repeat. She liked the rhythm and the way it sounded. She looked into my eyes as Kendrick rapped on.

I looked back at her.

Dead into her eyes.

Our lips felt each other.

we sat there in each other’s embrace.

“The Art of Peer Pressure” plays in my ears.

I miss her.

I miss being in her arms.

All this.

All alone.

Staring blankly at the ceiling.

At 3 in the morning.

There I was, lying on my bed.

Ashes

I was burning, I still am. The smell fills the place that I am at. Ashes everywhere. I try and pick up whatever is left of me at that moment. I take a broom to it. I fill all the ashes in a jar but it is not enough. It will never be enough.

I go searching for her in every person I meet, yet I’m not able to find what I’m looking for. I search in every nook and cranny but in vain. I make some coffee and when I take a sip of it, it reminds me of her lips. All those nights spent together, naked, looking into each other’s eyes and thinking that we’re going to make it. We’re going to sit and look back at everything that we’ve been through and tell each other that we made it. That we made it through every single hurdle that life threw at us.

Now I spend my nights alone. Wide awake and looking at the ceiling while I think of her. I check my phone every hour, hoping that I get a message from her but without any success.

I try to climb out from the hole that I’ve fallen into. The hole that I’ve dug for myself.

Without success.

I sit back and light up a cigarette. I smoke it until I see more ash than the cigarette produces.

It’s me.

I’m burning.

Entirely going up in flames.

I try and pick up whatever is left of me. All the ash. I try and put it in a jar but it’s not enough.

There is more ash than I expected.

I’m burning.

It’s a bonfire.

The jar is filled to the brim.

It’s not enough.

It will never be enough.