Deceptions
She leaned against the door and watched her life-long friend - her perfect friend - as she stood at the kitchen sink preparing vegetables for dinner. She had always thought of her friend as one of the most straightforward, honest and dependable people she had ever known.
Until now - now that she herself had experienced the pain of betrayal - and her mind had begun to accept the incredible complexity of people and their motives.
There had to be more to her friend than she saw before her. There had to be more than she had ever seen and maybe more than she would ever see. There had to be some event that her friend kept to herself - a secret desire never acted upon but nevertheless cherished. Hidden resentments. There had to be.
Or did there have to be? Maybe her friend was keeping nothing to herself. Maybe some people simply had nothing to hide from the world. They lived one hundred percent honestly. If guilt was possible, then why couldn't innocence be possible too? Maybe, but she was beginning to doubt that a truly innocent life was a possible one.
It was complicated, this thing called life. People wore masks. One person might harbor various personalities within themselves and might comprise several layers of characters.
And because of this, a person might never, ever know for certain if or when they were doing the right thing or the best thing or the smartest thing. And if a person couldn't be sure about the quality of their own words and actions, how, then, could they ever interpret the words and actions of anyone else?
She found herself thinking often, now, about secrets and silence - about how deceptions, both large and small, were so much a part of human interaction. About how easy it was to find oneself alone or apart. About how, suddenly, in the midst of a life filled with friends and family, she could feel so completely and hopelessly alone.....
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