"The greatest way to live with honor in this world is to be what we pretend to be." —Socrates
The liar is someone I will never understand. It's no secret that all of us have lied at some point in our lives—because that is normal. But even in those instances, there's often integrity to be found—a doctor telling family members that their dying mother is in no pain when he knows otherwise, for instance. Integrity is a personal rite, and from it comes the gift of honesty that we can only give to others. And it's so damn easy to do.
Yet I'm continuously amazed at how so many embrace the opposite. It's not easy being dishonest, lacking personal integrity. It's hard work. But I see it on a daily basis; people going to great lengths simply to avoid doing the right thing, always looking over their shoulders and slinging snide, diversionary accusations, fogging up the mirror that they stand before just so they can avoid looking upon the truth. But they know it's there, just on the other side of their veil of self-denial. It's a makeshift tourniquet. They trudge through a vast mire thick with petty excuses and meaningless lies. And for what reason? Where does it get them in the end? Oh, dishonesty has made many a man very successful, but I can only imagine that, on a real level—a human level—they're immensely sad.
Maybe I'm a fool for thinking that doing and saying the right thing is the only way to live. I've surely found myself questioning the sense of it all after losing so-called friends or being labeled a self-righteous asshole or having family members selfishly hack away at the pillars of my soul, but I can live no other way.
It's a lonely road, but it runs straight and sun is always shining.