Question For The Day 4-7-2021

Is it possible to live a normal life and never tell a lie?

Not even a little white lie. Why would you want to do this, you ask. Well, think of how much better the world would be if there were no lies.

“Why did you attack my country?”

“I had a bit of bad beef.”

“Why don’t you like me?”

“You are a bit too outgoing for me.”

Think of it. No lies forever. For anything. For anybody. They say the truth hurts, but in the end it hurts less than the lie.

The real reason I’m asking this is because I have been trying over the last years of my life to live a lie-less life. And, I have to admit, it is hard. I think as human being we are programed to lie because we don’t want others to see what we consider the dark, the bad, the weak, inside each of us.

After all, what do little white lies hurt?

“A lovely dress.”

“I love your hair.”

“You did fantastic up there.”

All white lies under the assumption the dress is not lovely, the hair is horrible and the person bombed in front off whatever audience was present. But are they bad, these lies? They spare the other person’s feeling, but at what expense? Would we be better to tell the honest truth each and every time?

I find the white lies coming to my tongue even when I know they are white lies, when I know they are wrong, and when I know the truth would be a better option. It is so much easier to just blur out the white lie and move on. No hurt feeling. No tears. No explaining.

But is it right?

The big lies are something else and I have a much easier time avoiding them. When I make a big blunder, I own up to it and move on, no matter how dark and bad and weak it makes me feel. I can stomach the big stuff, but the little stuff is still too hard. We all want to be liked and accepted. Would we be liked if we always told the truth? In today’s world, I think not.

Sadly, it is true. We don’t want people who tell us the honest truth. We want the white lies and the mis-truths, the lies of omission. Who wants to be told their dress is horrible or their hair is a wreak or they bombed.

I don’t. Do you?

So then how do we handle the little white lies? Because in the end, they do hurt us. Eventually we find out the truth and it hurts. Truth or not, we don’t always want the truth. It is more comfortable, in the moment, to live with the white lie.

But, what would it be like? To live in a lie-less world. Would we hate each other more or less? Would we fight more or less? Would we kill each other at the alarming rate of the modern world?

We will never know the answers to these questions until, if, we banish all the lies. It is a beautiful dream. Do you think it is possible?

Response JSW 4-5-2021

The JSW Challenge is open to anybody who wishes to participate. Using the writing prompt, write a flash fiction no longer than 200 words and post to your page. The Challenge starts on Monday and runs through Sunday each week. Please remember to link your story back to this post so everyone can read your entry.

I dropped my head, groaning. Why couldn’t one day, just one day, with him be normal?

“You seem unhappy.”

“To say the least.”

“Why are you unhappy?”

“Because you just shot our chance of being normal.”

“They weren’t going to think we were normal anyway.”

“But you didn’t have to go drop fire on their heads?”

“Why not it was pretty.”

Pretty!

“Look, idiot, pretty doesn’t keep us alive. Pretty doesn’t help us blend in with the normal folk.”

“Why would you want to blend in?” he asked.

I could see he was truly curious. “Because I want to live for one thing. And I’d like a normal life like any normal being.”

“Not all that it stacks up to be.”

“I don’t care,” I screamed. “I want to be normal.”

He was silent for a long time, watching the burning village in the valley below. “I’m sorry. I’d take it back if I could.”

“Humph. Little good that does us now.”

“Sor-ry.”

“Well, let’s move on before they start to look for us.” It didn’t any good to get angry at him. As much as he said sorry, he really didn’t understand the meaning of the word. He thought just saying sorry made all things better.

He followed me back down the hill and away.

“But can you please not drop fire down on the next village?”

“Sor-ry.”

“Can you?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“I can’t drop fire on the next village.”

“Good. Now that’s settled, let’s hope we find another village soon.”

We trotted away, tails wagging, hoping we’d find a master over the next hill.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers 4-26-2017

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Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

1. A prompt photo will be provided each Tuesday to be used as a base to your story. Please include photo prompt with your story.

2. Linking for this challenge begins on Tuesday and runs to the following Monday evening.

3. Please credit photo to photographer.

4. The story word limit is 100 – 150 words (+ – 25 words). Please try to stay within this limit.

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This week’s photo prompt is provided by Dawn Miller. 

Tom swirled their number between thumb and forefinger, eyes counting and re-counting the flowers on the tablecloth.

Jason rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I know you wanted to go, but it just isn’t going to work.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not…..”

“What?”

“I’m tired of being nice.”

Nice?

“You’re not…. friendly enough.  Forceful.  Basically you’re a wimp.”

Jason stood. Walked away.

Tom’s head rose slowly. Watching. Black hair skimming his eyes.

Not friendly? Wimp?

Flames flicked in his eyes.

Thoughts on Being Normal

What is normal? Have you had a normal day? A normal dinner? A normal phone call? How about a normal interaction with a friend or family member? Is there such a thing as ‘normal?’

We could talk all day about normal. Normal in psychology, chemistry, math, biology, medicine. Conforming to a standard. Average. None of these, however, touch the truth of what normal means to me.

Many people never have to think about being normal. For me, normal is not my natural state. Growing up, I didn’t know how I felt wasn’t normal so it was my normal. I don’t think I was depressed as a child. The depression, it seems to me, came as I grew older and began to realize my normal was different from the world’s. For years, afterwards, I didn’t know what normal meant. It wasn’t what I felt, how I lived, so it must be how the rest of the world felt and lived.  Problem was, I couldn’t fit together the puzzle pieces to understand how the rest of the world lived.

I’m older now. It took me thirty years of fighting to come to where I now stand. Fighting the manic highs where anything I did seemed right, my mind gunning a thousand miles per hour and fighting the lows where I could barely make myself move out of one chair and to another. Years where I was terrified of everything, where I had to stop watching movies and TV. My emotions were so uncontrolled that if I watched the wrong thing, I was depressed for days. Years where I was afraid to go alone to anywhere I’d never been.

This couldn’t be normal. My normal, yes, but the worlds? No way, I thought, no way. What I didn’t realize was there was no normal. The world wasn’t created to be normal. We  trap ourselves into pretending we are living normal lives just like I pretended I was okay and able to function in the world. In the end, it’s all pretending.

And then one day, about six or so months ago, I was half-way through my day at work when it struck me. I felt ‘normal.’  I felt like all those people I’d envied over the years who could step into any situation and be themselves. I’d never really been myself. When I started my journey, I didn’t even know I had a self.

And I know what you are going to say. Those normal people probably weren’t, or didn’t, necessarily feel normal, but to me they were normal. They were what I’d longed to be for so long

Normal.

I am having more and more of those normal days. That’s not to say that every day is a normal day. It isn’t. I still have days when I close in on myself, protect myself from a world I still don’t always understand. But more days than not I do feel normal. I can laugh and talk to people. I can open myself up enough to realize I am somebody under the cover I’d been holding all these years. I can joke. I can tease. I can be the me I always felt deep inside.

So ‘normal’….. yes or no?  I still know there is no real normal.  People are too varied and too often broken for there to be a norm.  Regardless, I have found my ‘normal’ and I’m happy. And that, most days, is enough.