Of Lies and Delusions
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I fall for it every time.
An impassive face. No hesitation or doubt. The lie rolls out of his mouth as smooth as butter.
Could my naïveté be blamed for this? Am I too gullible?
Trust me, he says.
That’s what he’s always said.
That’s what he said when we were kids.
That’s what he said last week.
I will, I swear. Trust me.
But he never did it. His words were empty.
I keep hoping. Every time he says those words, I give him the benefit of the doubt.
Blind faith? Maybe.
A part of me refuses to give up, believes he would do it one day.
Because when he says it, I know he’s not lying. He believes it himself.
It is only later that his actions or lack thereof make those words a lie.
Could a lie be a lie when the person who says it did not intend for it to be one?
Or is it a broken promise?
Then again, broken promises are assurances that have become falsehoods.
I am surprised I am not exhausted after all these years. Far from it.
In my mind, I can envision him keeping his word.
I know he will.
After all, how hard is it to get a carton of milk from the store on the way back home?
