Honest Henry

What if, just what if, people told the truth? Not once in a while, not just for the big things, not half-truths and shady truisms but the pure open (most likely hurtful) truth. Imagine a world of no white lies, no advertisements devised by marketers reminiscent of classic cartoon villains, no walking on eggshells around a human being you are attracted to, saying everything except the simple truth, that you’d like to sleep with them , among other things.

Enter honest Henry, he doesn’t exist sorry, I know I should give him a grand entrance, build up his character and then proceed to tear it all down, but I figured I could save us all the rotten tomatoes and eggs and directly pull him off his high horse before we proceed. Henry, you see, doesn’t lie, he lives his life in stark reality, untainted by the little truisms and white lies we all tell ourselves and each other. Henry’s heart is unsullied by the weight of billions of little lies, each forming a reality of its own, that has to be maintained at all times lest the world sees the liar for what they truly are, an insignificant, insecure little primate, naked in the winds of society.

I like Henry, I want to be like Henry. I want to be free, can you imagine what it would be like if you never had to worry about what would happen if the people you hung around got to know what you really thought about them? Imagine if you never had to worry about that pretty girl in school learning your guilty secret, that you have had a crush on her for the longest time, and that your mind has created more than a few questionable scenarios and ran, record-breaking Kalenjin style marathons with them.

Personally, I’m convinced that it’s impossible to live without at least a little bit of duplicity. You will never really tell your girlfriend that they are getting fat when they ask. Nor will you tell your mother that you are out with the boys, mumbling sweet nothings under your alcohol tinged breath to a drunk damsel in a horribly lit club when she is bragging to her lady friends at Chamas that wakili is off in university studying.  Every single day, we walk around wrapped in thickly wound layers of lies, stacked on top of each other. These lies form the lenses through which we view the world, why every act of kindness is viewed as thinly veiled mockery and why every friend seems like a weapon formed against us.

In an ideal world, we would all live like Henry, I like to think that the classic naked in the school hallways nightmare wouldn’t faze him so much, he wouldn’t be hiding anything either way. Maybe, just maybe, I’ve latched onto one of the profound truths of the universe, you know, like what happed with newton and the apple, and I’ve discovered how to return to the bliss of a Garden of Eden like state of being, or maybe I’m lying to myself, who knows. 

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