Lies
Lies
I was reading the Robbie Williams' biography last night. (He's a British singer). This passage leapt out at me. It is a reference to the tabloid press, but it struck a big chord about my experience of living with an alcoholic.
“I think that in the long run that it’s the little lies that somehow do more damage, because you’re defenceless against them. These aren’t the grand libels and slanders. They’re the tiny untruths, the endless small misstatements of where you were and who you are. If you try to point out a little lie, no one usually listens and, if they do, often they’ll think you mad for making a fuss about something so unimportant. They are fine grains of sand eroding a building; if you live inside its walls for a lifetime, you see the destruction they cause, but to everyone else they’re just dust in the air. But these are the lies that tell the person being lied about that everything they believe to be true is subtly wrong; it is the little lies that can, in the long run, undermine your faith in reality and your relationship with the outside world.”
“I think that in the long run that it’s the little lies that somehow do more damage, because you’re defenceless against them. These aren’t the grand libels and slanders. They’re the tiny untruths, the endless small misstatements of where you were and who you are. If you try to point out a little lie, no one usually listens and, if they do, often they’ll think you mad for making a fuss about something so unimportant. They are fine grains of sand eroding a building; if you live inside its walls for a lifetime, you see the destruction they cause, but to everyone else they’re just dust in the air. But these are the lies that tell the person being lied about that everything they believe to be true is subtly wrong; it is the little lies that can, in the long run, undermine your faith in reality and your relationship with the outside world.”
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