Issue No. 25

During my youthful days, preoccupied with naiveté and the anxieties of schooling, I was one of those boys who relished spending time with friends, engaging in outdoor play and long conversations that stretched until sundown. Those moments hold a special place in my memory, as the company of my friends often felt more inviting than the sound of my grandmother's directives, urging me to restore order in my room.

I would unfailingly respond with a 'yes' whenever my friends knocked on the door of our modest home, even when I was unwell or feeling unusually lethargic. This habit inadvertently imposed a burden on my friends during my more temperamental moods, dampening their enjoyment. In retrospect, perhaps I should have chosen to remain at home. Why did I pretend to be eager to go out when, in truth, I wasn't? The answer is clear—I feared being left behind. I dreaded the possibility that my friends, in my absence, might refine their Yu-Gi-Oh strategies and surpass me in the game the following day. I couldn't allow that to happen. Or, to be more candid, I worried they might interpret my reluctance as a lack of interest in their company.

Thus, I resorted to dishonesty with my friends on multiple occasions, agreeing to their plans even when my heart was not in it. Regrettably, this habit of mine created awkwardness among us, leading others to emulate my untruths. Eventually, we continued to play together, oblivious to the fact that it would be the last time.

This pattern persisted as I grew older and began to court girls at my school. Focused more on my image and charm, I found myself resorting to lies when interacting with the girls who caught my interest. I lied to my teachers about completing homework, to my father about school expenses, and to my mother about completing chores.

Gradually, I began to deceive myself. I became so adept at it that I began to believe these falsehoods, drifting further from reality each time. Yet, as with all deceptions, there came a point when the facade crumbled, leaving behind nothing—least of all, my true self.

Many of us have encountered similar situations, where we strive to idealize ourselves to such an extent that we deceive not only others but also the universe itself. In such a state, facts lose their significance, overshadowed by our fixation on aligning ourselves with our self-constructed ideals. It becomes far more convenient to tell lies to achieve our objectives than to confront the truth and endure the resulting tribulations, risking our sense of control. Regardless of their magnitude, lies carry consequences. A simple "okay" when we feel otherwise can be as impactful as an astronaut fabricating information about a spacecraft's critical condition. Every lie, particularly those that emanate from within, jeopardizes lives. When one falsehood begets another, a cycle of untruths and suffering ensues. A promise made to oneself but not honored is a form of deception, and so too is the preaching of wisdom that one fails to practice. Self-deception serves as a symptom of a deeper ailment—an estrangement from our authentic selves.

The term "Authentes," as understood by the Ancient Greeks, signified a commitment to one's own personality, spirit, and character. In modern psychology, authenticity is the alignment of one's personality with their values and desires, irrespective of the superficial pursuits of the world. When we resort to deception, we compromise our authenticity, sacrificing our values. Our words lose their credibility, and our promises are reduced to disposable contracts. Communication becomes futile when words hold no genuine meaning. Even if we become proficient in our deceptions and attain our desires, the truth eventually prevails.

As I matured into self-awareness, I became acutely aware of the falsehoods I conveyed, both to others and to myself. I chose to relinquish this habit, even if it meant severed connections and missed opportunities. I embraced the truth as a higher value, preserving the integrity of my promises. Although their quantity dwindled, their quality improved. Now, when I speak, those around me, as well as myself, trust that my words will be upheld. My speech is succinct but precise, my thoughts focused and unwavering. I attract individuals who appreciate me for who I am because, in shedding falsehoods, I granted my authentic self the space to flourish.