The difference between the truth and a lie

Sometimes you don’t know any more.

In this brilliant nation full of people of so many different races, colors, and creeds, and languages, it can be hard to judge a person’s honesty, their words, their expressions are difficult to discern by 12 people similarly of different races, colors, and creeds, and languages.

For instance, my father makes claims about me that I know are not true but it comes down to the fact that people like him. I am housebound and disabled. He is very old but charming. I want to break away and have been waiting, waiting, and waiting on a source of money to do so. From a number of possible, legitimate sources. And the lies grow deeper and deeper and deeper.

I have changed since two years ago or 12 years ago or 40 years ago and it’s about time I had a little time to live before it’s all over. It would not be fitting or proper, given our history, for me to stay here to take care of my father. He can easily afford a housekeeper and I have been working on a lovely two room space here that anybody would enjoy. It went into abeyance 6 months ago over the wiring that needed to be done and I have been sitting here waiting and waiting and waiting. Maybe I would have stayed, or maybe not, but at this point I just have to go.

I explained to him today that I still love him, or rather, WHY I still love him. It is a quote from somewhere, and I don’t remember, 19th century literature I would guess: “The only possible response to someone who is superior to you is Love.”

I am the “wart-mole person.” I am congenitally deficient. I knew that I wasn’t normal. My father was sometimes very kind to me.

But I am ready, at this point, to remove the burden of me off of him and let him fly a bit himself.

That’s it.