Please Ask Me Again

Is failing to acknowledge part of the truth the same as lying? If I don’t say anything when asked if I did something wrong, does that make me just as bad as someone who blatantly said they didn’t do it? If so, then I’d bet start hoping the gods have some mercy on me.

I try not to straight up lie, I really do. If I took the cookie on your plate and you asked me if I’d taken it, I’m not going to say “no”. However, if the question does not require such a straightforward answer, I will, more likely than not, casually avoid directly answering the inquiry. For instance, if you had asked who took your cookie, I may not necessarily respond, leaving you to ponder the identity of the cookie thief. Does that mean I lied? And what if you found out the truth from me anyway?

I have a terrible poker face. Whenever I play card games I need to literally hide my face underneath another object to avoid revealing any information. This means that even if I don’t answer your question, you may be able to figure out the answer pretty easily just by the expressions on my face. So I lied but my face didn’t?

It’s so easy for me to say “someone is only lying if they blatantly tell something other than the truth” in order to put my conscience to rest, however, in reality I don’t think that’s necessarily the case. One instance in particular comes to mind from elementary school when one day a bunch of people were called into a meeting with a few teachers to discuss a kid who was being bullied. The teachers asked us if any of us knew anything about it or had witnessed it happening. I, like everyone else in the room, stayed silent. For a long time after that I felt guilty for what I had done, or rather, what I had not done. I knew that by saying nothing I had lied to everyone in that room including my bullied classmate.

However, what about those questions that are just unanswerable? The “what’s wrong” when there are about a zillion things that seem to be going wrong at the time tends to be a difficult one for me. It’s not that I don’t know per say, it’s just that there’s just so much gosh darn stuff you DON’T want to hear about. And even if I do want to tell you I often have no clue how to actually filter those complaints into coherent sentences.

In those cases, I often just respond with a simple “I don’t know” or ever better, the classic shrug and look preoccupied. It’s not because I want to hurt you or that I’m shutting you out, but sometimes leaving out the truth is easier than trying to sort through it. So I suppose ultimately it comes down to whether or not I think it’s worth it to keep part of the truth from you and that answer can vary depending on what the truth is.

If the truth will clearly do more good than bad, I’ll probably have a thorough argument with myself for a while and arrive at the conclusion that I should talk about it. On the other hand, if it will do more harm than good, then I struggle endlessly with myself. It gets to the point where sometimes I could swear I have little devil and angel versions of myself sitting on my shoulders, whispering in my ears. In the end, I more often than not go with the easier route. I don’t talk.

I wish I could say I’m not lying when I don’t answer questions with the entire truth but in reality, whether the truth hurts or not, it’s still the truth. So the next time you ask me a question and I simply shrug in dismissal, ask again. I promise you, the truth is hiding in me somewhere, it just doesn’t necessarily want to come out.