Furthest From the Truth

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I was five years old and in kindergarten. At the time I was living in my hometown of Perry, Utah, attending Willard Elementary School which is located ten minutes south of my house. It was a day just like any other, or so I thought. A few hours into school, I found myself sitting all alone in the corner of the double-sized classroom between two book shelves. Listening to the rest of my classmates playing on the other side of the room, I buried my focus into a set of Lego-like blocks. As I recall, they were dull yellow in color and worn down from the constant use of sixty hyperactive kindergarten students. As our much-too-short recess came to an end, I decided, without thinking twice, that it would be a brilliant idea to put four of these blocks in my pocket and take them home with me. Throughout the rest of the day, I walked around with these four golden weights bearing down on my consciousness as they rolled around in my pocket. Being raised with a set of morals and values, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I did not care; I wanted to play.

As the end of the school day drew closer, I could not wait for that final bell to ring. Nearly peeling my skin off in anticipation of the moment when I would be free, it was nigh impossible to keep from bouncing in my seat. I am sure people thought I was in dire need of a restroom, but little did they know my head would burst before my bladder.

Once I stepped off the bus and began my trek home, the pressure of the guilt began to slowly release from my pounding head. For the next five to ten minutes, there was no one from which to hide. I was, at last, left alone with my secret. Stepping through the threshold of my house, my head suddenly exploded with the paranoia of gett...

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... had been actively participating in these behaviors for a long time, it took a long time and a lot of work to finally get to a point where they are no longer that much of an issue. It took me ten months, moving to a new state, meeting new people, lots of therapy, very deep self reflection, and practice to be able to say that I am now an honest person. It took a great deal of that time to finally realize that telling the truth the first time is a lot easier than running away from it forever. The relief from the stress that is accumulated with the act of lying is a truly serene feeling. The weight that is guilt, paranoia, and cynicism baring down on your conscious gets to the point where you may snap at any given time. I hit that point years ago. The solution? Simply put, tell the truth. It sounds simple, but it is not easy. I had to find that out the hard way.

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