Truth

I have spent my entire life being the good guy. I do good deeds, go to work sick, and try my best to take care of those dearest to me. This is not to say I am saintly, for I am helplessly flawed -- my biggest flaw being I tend to trust those around me. Tell me you need money for a life saving procedure and I'll procure it even though I'm aware of your gambling addiction, ask for a lung and it's yours, after all, I've got two.

But sometimes this trust has led to heartache. On more than one occasion I have felt the blows of honesty knock the wind out of my one remaining lung and have told myself I will never do that again. Yet I do. I gamble with my heart assuming, like most addicts, that this will be the last time. But it never is. I build my walls of resistance only to have them torn down by someone else's confession. They say the truth shall set you free, but at what cost and at whose expense? Is telling the truth worth the gamble when hearts are on the table?