Month: September 2022

I don’t have the habit of starring messages on WhatsApp, but every now and then when I come across a message particularly important or emotion-provoking I star the message, just to probably never revisit it again. The “Starred Messages” tab on my WhatsApp is as untouched as a philosophy student’s calculator — for pure decorative purposes and nothing more.

But every now and then, I revisit my starred messages just to see what was once upon a time important enough for me to have starred it for future reference. Most of them are outdated work-related messages, which would then be swiftly deleted, but every now and then I chance upon a nice message from someone whom I do not talk to very much anymore.

I came across your message the other day; I was having a particularly bad day, and you texted me just to tell me that you would be here for me whenever needed. It was surprisingly to hear that from you, an otherwise reserved and reticent person, positive words of affirmation. This message, had it come from anyone else, I’d probably not have starred it; but because it came from you it was a rare artefact that needed to be tucked away someplace safe.

Fast forward, I’m not sure if you would still mean this message today. We have faded to nothing more than acquaintances, albeit not on bad terms, but there is no longer a reason for us to keep in communication. It’s difficult to imagine that we were once close, that once upon a time for 2.5 months you played an integral role in my life.

People come and people go, that is old news. The older we grow, the more I have realised that most people come into our lives as mere transitory phases, just to stay momentarily to fulfil an objective purpose and then to fade away, oftentimes without a parting farewell. Very few are meant to stay; you, obviously, were not one of them.

But that’s okay. At the end of the day even if your physical presence is no longer a constant, I have a sincerely written WhatsApp starred message to remember you by.

And that’s enough for me.

What if I told all of you that for these 11 months that I’ve been here, I have been lying? A lie that started small, but circumstances made it necessary to repeat the lie further, to a wider audience. News got around, much to my reluctance, and eventually the lie has spread far enough such that it has now become the truth.

Repeat a lie enough, and it becomes the truth. Except it will never be the truth, and I don’t have the guts to admit that I have been lying. But I have too much at stake to lose now, and I can’t revert back to square one to retell the truth again. So I will have to live with this lie, a lie wherein my image and self-esteem rests upon, a lie fabricated in a moment of haste and lack of introspection. A careless lie that spread too far, and now impossible to retrieve.

Does it really matter? No, it doesn’t. It will affect no one, because it concerns no one but myself; it will implicate no one else. But the guilt eats away at me on days when the lie is repeated again by an unsuspecting interlocutor, when I hoped that it would fade away over time — but it doesn’t. I don’t even repeat this lie myself anymore, this lie has not come out of my mouth in a long time, but the lie lives on because other people regurgitate it as though it is the truth. Which, to be fair, it is the truth to them because how are they supposed to know otherwise? I have hid it too well.

I’m not being my authentic self, I’m not being truthful with people who otherwise deserve the truth. But I have come too far now to turn back, so I won’t. Maybe I’ll burn all evidence that matter just so I can perhaps convince myself that my lie will one day become the truth.

And carry this lie to my grave I will.