The Truth.
“This is all I know.” Scrawled on a weathered and torn slice of a 9 ¾” blue lined composition page, these words echoed the only solid truth I thought I would ever encounter in my life. See, truths are something rarely ever encountered. Human nature only fools us into thinking we have found the truth, when in reality, it is merely an illusion of where we are with our lives and what we think we need…
At one time, I believed the only boy I would ever love was the one who I had known since I was eleven. The boy who I had my first “real” talk with in the basement of his house. Real, as in something beyond the basic middle school gossip talks usually entailed. I thought he was the only boy who would ever see things my way; the only boy who would ever truly listen to me. At one time, I spent a summer daydreaming about him day in and day out. I found myself waking up just to watch the sunrise with dreamy eyes. I found myself wondering when the day would come that he would realize what I had realized. I found myself believing that I had found love. I found myself believing that this was the only truth in my life. Beyond everything, this was something real.
I spent years, watching you live your life, and live your life without me. I found myself grasping for you, as you wanted nothing more to do with me. I found myself wondering about you and what could have been, even when a new boy was in the picture. Slowly I began questioning what I thought I had. It took me years, but finally, this truth no longer became a truth. What I thought was true love, was merely an illusion.
I used to think my first break-up was the greatest thing to test my strength. Being strong for myself and holding myself together was the most important thing in my life. The pain of break-ups, as well, became a truth for me.
This truth was rejected as I sat, listening to my closest friend tell me she was battling an eating disorder over our weekly coffee date. When once being strong for me was enough, being strong for my friend became my new priority. When I once thought heartbreak was the hardest thing I would have to deal, I now knew as an illusion as well.
At one time, I thought I had figured out what I wanted to do with my life. The freedom and comfort of food became my calling. I had enrolled in an out-of-state culinary institute, and was ready to leave at the end of the summer. I finally discovered what I was good at. At one time, I thought being a chef was what I wanted.
However, that soon came to a close, as, leaving the school tour, I realized this did not fit in anywhere in my life. My career in the culinary field, was as well, an illusion.
This is all I know. Scrawled on a weathered and torn slice of a 9 ¾” blue lined composition page, these few words echoed the only solid truth I thought I would ever encounter in my life. 11 journals filled to the brim, shouting at me to look at the truth.
Because everyone else was saying they found true love, I wanted love too, and I fooled myself into believing I had found it for years. I made truth for myself out of something that was in no way true. I fooled myself into thinking heartbreak was the hardest thing I would face because I knew, by nature, heartbreak is supposed to be difficult. I fooled myself into thinking the culinary field was where I was supposed to go because I was searching for something to do with my future. Not because I was truly passionate about it, but because I needed a path to take. With graduation quickly approaching, I needed a plan for the future, and took the first thing that came my way.
Sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking we found the truth. Maybe it’s because we want to have what everyone else has. Maybe it’s because we want some certainty in our ever-changing lives. Maybe it’s a product of our environment and circumstances. Or maybe, it’s because we’re human.
What I’ve learned is that when we accept false truths, we deny ourselves of the real truth when it comes about. And when we walk away from the real truth, we give way not only to losing potential happiness, but to losing ourselves in illusion.
No, I am not going to be a master chef. I am not in love with my long-time best friend and high school sweetheart, and I do not know what true love is. I don’t always know how to be strong for myself, or for the most important people in my life. I don’t always know how to separate truth from fiction.
But what I do know, beyond all the small changes, missteps, and false pretenses in my life, is that I have eleven journals, screaming out to me. Screaming out to me that while I don’t have true love, true strength, or, well, the chance at becoming a chef, I have these words. I have the certainty that my words give me, the love these words emit, the strength these words possess, the passion these words express. And I know, this is enough for me. And I know, this is what I love. And I know, beyond everything, this is all I know.
