Simplicity of Truth

 No matter how hard one tries to tell even the whitest of lies, from that point onward, one still needs to remember two things, instead of just one.  More so, lies are like weeds, sprouting new growth, each taking on a life of it own, another garden to tend.

When the lie becomes more work than living reality, one loses touch with the world that brought on the lie.  Truth is now something to deny.  But reality is persistent and unyielding, and the reality of the lie is merely an infinitesimal part of a world that the liar has tried to forget.

The greatest lies are those we tell ourselves – gardens walled off from the world, and gardeners buried away from their reality.

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