In vitea Veritas, too

  

So much of youth is spent in ignorance, they say. As I get older, I wonder if it is not more true to say it’s spent without fear of consequence. 

When you’re young, you say what you want, when you want to, and you live in the wreckless hope that it will all work out in the end. Yet age, and indeed life itself, makes you realize not everything said can be undone. Not all actions manifested into words are without thought to consequence anymore.

I stopped writing not because I lost my voice, but because the better part of the slight wisdom I have come to possess has cautioned me to practice restraint when placing pen to paper, proverbially speaking.

Yet for someone who has torn through her fair share of rain forest and cyberspace alike with the truth that muses on my mind, restraint comes at a cost. Restraint comes with a reluctance to accept a life where mum is the word. I still yearn for the satisfaction of saying it all. I still surrender to the soulful part of me that allows my thoughts to live as loud as I do, but now it’s all ‘that’s me inside my head’, and not allowing a party for participation.

Life, if lived for living, provides truth in it’s tell-all way without having to write it out. Actions become the litmus stick of existence, even for someone like me that talks too much and ends up saying too little. 

Tonight in a rare moment of alone, candles burning and a glass of wine fueling my fire, I yield to a nostalgic wish of writing like I once did – about life, about love, about my unmasked thoughts born out of believing that saying it inevitably helps more than it harms.

Ignorance, it would appear, does not leave us as soon as we leave our youth behind. Rather, it manifests in a mask of thinking we now ought to know better. 

I have to wonder if we truly know better, or if we just know better than to still say it out loud, choosing to stifle rather than to strive for the same sense of honesty. Is our silence a sign of strength or submission?

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