I feel like I live in this dream world. Not a literal dream world, as they asked me this question when I once went in for counseling and I’m sure that it might be a sign of insanity. I don’t feel like I’m in a dream world, I know that I’m in a real world. A tangible world. But for some reason everyone lies, acts, pretends all the time. There’s so little brutal honesty, and the ones who provide it are usually abrasive or arrogant or out for shock value, actors acting honest. Truth is something different, that’s what they say in ethics. The truth is undebatable, undoubtable, undeniable (to a culture). We accept that it’s true that Barack Obama is President, it’s true that the bark on the tree outside is brown (I don’t bother embracing philosophers who’d tell me otherwise, or philosophers in general, except this dreamy philosopher professor I had once—I’d embrace him). Honesty is being genuine, expressing what is true to you. I can tell lies honestly, if I’ve been misinformed. I usually don’t have this problem, because I like to verify my facts. I feel that I’m just smart enough to figure out when something isn’t true (“World’s Greatest Googler”), but I missed the boat on recognizing dishonesty. As most people are not genuine, they do not say how they are really feeling when they are asked, they do not speak with a level of authenticity and individuality that puts them out of their comfort zones or threatens their connections with others. We are dishonest to spare others’ feelings. We are dishonest to win over potential employers in interviews. We are dishonest to fit in. We are dishonest to make people smile. We are dishonest to get them off our backs. We are dishonest to make our lives easier. Some of us may tell the truth (though many of us don’t). “Yes, I worked at this company for this many years and did all of these tasks.” But did your boss really like you? Were you really always on time? Did you actually resign, or were you fired for smoking pot out back?
In this dream world, this real world, we tell each other things to keep ourselves alive.
“It’s nothing personal, maybe the interview went fine. They’ve just had a bad day.”
“They’re just introverted, maybe they’re interested, maybe I can win them over.”
“If I just leave this area/get a new job/find a new husband/buy a dog/lose some weight/save some money/obtain this product/do this drug/see this doctor/finish this project—things will change for me.”
“Maybe I do love them, I just don’t realize it.”
“This year will be better than last year.”
How often are we honest with ourselves?
Never.
Honesty is too painful.
How often are we honest with others?
Sometimes. In special circumstances. With special people. When we’re comfortable.
Right?
No.
Because the lies we tell ourselves we project onto other people. Unconsciously, unwillingly, unknowingly. We go on to teach our children about the virtue of manner and politeness and how to act in public. We go on to tell nice people, friendly people that we enjoy their upbeat personalities. When people tell us things that are too sad, we ignore them, become frustrated with them, tell them not to bring us down. When asked how we feel about someone, we over amplify our positive emotions or over emphasize our critiques depending on who we’re confiding in. We get angry when people stop liking us and break our hearts. We get jealous when our partners admit to looking at others or watching porn. We’re told positive attitudes and easy-going personalities are marketable and valuable in the workplace. We reinforce one another’s dishonesty. We demand it. We choke ourselves to stay breathing.
