There’s a maxim circling my universe that says “Tell the truth, or at least, don’t lie.” And it challenges me to my core despite being churched as a youngster and dedicated adult Christian. Because, like most people, I tend to curve my thoughts and words to please the hearer. One salient example relates to this blog and my roommate. I’m four years deep and never mentioned it to him.

And now I assume you’ve leaned your head to one side like a dog and asked “why…haven’t you told your roommate about your blog?” I understand. Your question is the best and most natural reaction to my words. And the short answer is, I don’t want him to read it. I like having a secret. And I feel justified in my stance. Can’t I have a place away from his judging eyes? The answer is, of course, yes. But, there’s more to it than that.

In truth, I’ve kept all my goals and plans from him- the novel, the short stories and poems, my plans to grow plants and move into my own place and everything else. And were I to have one secret, something innocent I wanted to keep to myself, that’s normal. But I keep most of my life from his prying eyes. And I’m starting to grow tired of managing all the non-lies and excuses (which are lies, let’s me be real.)

And I lie for the same reasons we all lie, to keep the peace, to get what I want, etc. And the honesty thing, to always tell the truth, that’s a gut punch. It will require me to admit I’ve lied in the past. And it will possibly, most likely, damage relationships and my reputation. I’m terrified at what I may destroy. My roommate can be a petty man, prone to hold grudges and respect. He could brush it off or take offense, depends on his mood. And though I’m scared of what he might do, I know I need to be honest with him, about me. And I also know, on the other side of fear, is freedom and grace. No matter what the result is, I won’t have to carry my dishonest burdens another step.

Wish me luck.