The truth is odd.

Sometimes, it hurts.

Sometimes, it's good for us.

And sometimes, you don't know how to react to it.

I told her the truth, and that's what she said.

Word

for

word.

She also said that she had a mixture of emotions.

I don't believe reciprocation was one of them.

The truth is odd.

Maybe because we rarely say it.

Or maybe because we tell the truth only when we're desperate.

Desperate for someone to believe us, support us, or...

like us more than a friend?

I don't know.

Maybe I was dumb to tell the truth.

Maybe I wasn't.

All I know are her words and that the conversation we had was the most recent one we've had.

The only thing she's said to me since then is hi. 

Or how are you.

I respond,

as best as I can with butterflies trying to get out of my stomach through my throat.

The truth is odd.

It's odd because what you want after you tell the truth almost never happens.

That's probably why people lie.

I don't know though, because I don't have the literal stats to back that up, nor the evidence.

 

 

 

Because the truth is always what you never think it will be.