One of the biggest misconceptions…

the truth can be more painful than lies

I once believed that; I once felt the pain when I was told the truth. It was the day he ‘came clean’! I knew what he came to say, I knew he allowed himself too look sorry and to beg for my forgiveness.

I still remember his face that day; I remember watching a face I once loved looking at, turning into a face that sickens me.

I still remember how it felt; how I planned to keep it together and to not cry, how I promised myself I would hear him through, and I also remember how I broke down and cried, how humiliating it felt to hear it all and yet cry that way in front of him.

I remember I tried, really tried to find a way to forgive him, I remember letting him hold me despite the pain, and feeling the part of me who once loved him slowly and painfully dying.

I remember going out with him the very next day and watching him play another game right in front of me, I remember letting it slide, and living up to my own standards, rather than his.

I remember his little play, the play he directed to make her think he had me wrapped around his finger, and that I had forgiven him. I remember how heartbreaking it was to see how he could still manipulate me that way despite all.

I remember how my whole body trembled as she walked towards us; how I wanted to break down and cry, to yell at him and to just do something different from what was expected of me. Then I remembered I was expected to make a scene, by both of them. And that was when I decided to make a little victory out of my loss and rise above it; I painted a smile on my face when she leaned to shake hands, folded my arms and shook my head telling her nothing, then I enjoyed watching her walk away in utter confusion. I let him wrap his arm around me in disbelief that was coated with false pride, and knew from that moment on, he will mean nothing to me.

That was the most pain I felt at a point. At that particular point, I thought the truth could never be more painful. Truth is, the truth does not hurt as badly as lies. Trust me; lies do hurt so much more.

I realize that each time I read what he said in all the official documents of which I receive photocopies. Every time I happen to read any of those and see how he trivialized the most painful moments of my life and made them about me making up fights for no legitimate reason. How he would shamelessly lie about why I left, and say I couldn’t get along with his family, and “so she packed and left”, really?!!! I never got along alright, but I never ever gave them reasons to complain, and I had already stopped complaining since the day I shared a house with them. How could he put it in such words, how could he make the worst days of my life sound so silly and meaningless?!!

That hurt so much more, and it still does every time I read one of those documents. I only read each once I receive it, and then put it in a file I keep at my dad’s room so that I would not have to see it ever again. Yesterday I was handed another, followed by the report the government official wrote upon visiting beet el ta3a. How did I ever get here? How did I ever fall for someone so…? There isn’t a word to describe him really, or describe how I feel about any of that.

I went home, and as I was getting something from my drawer, I saw an old envelop of photos, photos of us when were ‘in love’. I could no longer feel what I once felt for him, I could no longer see anything good about him, although the one in those photos was the one I held hands with and leaned on, and looked all happy and smiley and safe. I felt none of that; no happiness, no smiles, and definitely no safety. And this is why I left, the idiot; it wasn’t just that he failed my trust, it was that I knew I could trust him no more.

The truth did not hurt me when I knew it; the lies did. As a matter of fact, the truth gave me the peace I needed to walk out knowing that I did all I could when I was in there; it gave me the peace I needed and protected me from any what ifs that would come.


** This is not me acting depressed or hurt, it’s just something I have been thinking about all day since yesterday, and I thought I would get it out of my system and move on, instead of getting depressed over it.