a fragile sanctuary

Weaving across the blunt truth of reality, is a fragile, tenderly crafted fabric of lies. Easily torn, easily dissected, yet held sturdy together by belief, hope, ignorance, and the like.

It is there—a veil of deception draped over your eyes, concealing us from the actuality of the world, that which would tear through the cloth with merciless force, unyielding in its destruction. It is there—yet not really. For in your eyes, the lie is your truth. Your ignorance is your reality. You live contentedly in this beautiful world, a stylised scape tailored for you.

And we cannot lament the absence of truth, cannot feel contempt nor gratitude for the shield of lies, for how are we to hold judgment for that which we do not know of?

You are merely content in this state of tranquility, unconcerned with all else.

It is similar to a metaphorical Fata Morgana. It is the meticulous brushstrokes of a lie overlaying the grim reality underneath, much like viscous honey coating a pill, carefully prepared for a child’s consumption, so that they do not taste the underlying bitterness.

However, reality is that the child will grow, and sooner or later discover the actuality of the pill taste.

To be forever sheltered by a beautiful lie is a whimsical dream, wanted and abhorred, ideal yet unrealistic; should it be ripped off, torn apart ferociously in a brutal awakening of reality, the backlash can be severe.

In the end, a beautiful lie is beautiful for as long as it stays. In the considerably improbable situation of being able to sustain this untruth forever, the lie is preferable—for me.