Lies We Tell

“The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves. We live in denial of what we do, even what we think. We do this because we're afraid. We fear we will not find love, and when we find it we fear we'll lose it. We fear that if we do not have love we will be unhappy.” - Richard Bach

Spending my Christmas and New Year at Blacksburg gave me a lot of time to do what I wanted to do for a long long time, which is sitting at home, reading lots of books (other than course related).

I read a Collection of Short Stories called After Rain by Irish writer William Trevor. One short story in book called "A Day" made me think.

It was a poignant story about a day in a life of a simple housewife wonderfully told - what is expected to be a mundane monologue turned out to be a play of emotions and ironic satire.
As all simple straightforward things in life standing on the legs of extreme complexity.
The story in a nutshell is about a lonely housewife and her husband - the vices, shortcoming and insecurities that their hide from each other. And not just that, the lies that they tell and the presences that goes along with it.
Strange comproises that we make everyday - the little white lies that starts from a one harmless occasional slip to a constant companion.
Is this really the easy way out? (I wonder). What happens to truth? Does it remain submerged under the layers of " Let things remain the way they are" or " Let it go on".
.Lies that we conjure everyday and every moment - why , well, one reason is to not to hurt someone else's feelings, but then another reason is US - our selfish interest to great out of an unfair truth with a fair lie.
For some it a scapegoat, for some a perpetual fool's paradise. We believe what we want to believe and what is the most convenient.
But then, sometimes, there are no lies, only many versions of truth.
Who can argue?