Truth is hard to swallow, but the pill is the pain that brings the retching of realization.
Truth scrapes the throat on the way down. Sits heavy in the gut. Sometimes it’s not kind or sweet. Not wrapped in gold foil or dressed up for dinner.
Hard truth can show up in bare skin and cracked knuckles, dragging behind it every lie it ever shattered. Truth is a knife; a cold, precise, unapologetic blade that cuts through the crap. It doesn’t blink at the blood. Doesn’t hesitate at the sight of ego. It cuts what needs cutting: delusion, denial, disguise — and leaves the wound open so the air and sunlight can dry it up and do its cleansing.
Healing doesn’t begin until the rot is gone. Truth is a mirror in the wrong light. Every flaw, every fracture, every wrinkle of contradiction reflected back in brutal clarity. Truth wasn’t made to simply comfort — it clarifies. And clarity isn’t always warm. It’s fluorescent. Flickering. Sometimes a blinding lightning strike.
Truth doesn’t play by the rules of convenience. It can arrive early or late, never on schedule, but it always rises to the surface, not drowned out by the delusion of deception. It can speak in many ways: in whispers or riddles or bamboo poles that smack the back of the head. But it always speaks, even if we pretend we can’t hear it.
Truth can be a brick thrown through a church stained glass. A slow drip of truth can fill a bucket or overflow an ocean, making a dam break all at once. Either way, it floods. And once it’s poured out, it can’t go back in.
There’s no unknowing, no unseeing. No rewind. No return.
And it’s not about facts. Facts are small. Truth is wide. Facts wear suits and regurgitates data. Truth rips through the numbers with feeling, depth, with a heart that’s old and elemental. Truth is the thing behind the thing: the motive behind the mask, the silence between the words. It’s the weight in the chest, the storm you knew was coming, but said it wouldn’t.
Truth doesn’t need belief to exist. It just is. Always will be. And when it hits, not if, but when, it doesn’t ask for understanding. Only surrender. Because once the truth is seen. The script burns and the light comes on. Truth makes everything false scramble.
