Lies travel easily.
Soft shoes.
Hard streets.
Whispers that tell you it’s safe.
Comfort is enough.

They ask nothing.
They bend to your convenience.
They fold neatly into the day.

Truth barges in.
It rattles doors.
It pulls at your chest.
Demands hands.
Demands heart.
Demands change.

Heavier.
Sharper.
Alive.

Honesty is called “toxic.”
Deception is crowned “strategy.”
The world leans backward,
applauding hollow light,
ignoring the weight of what is real.

Still, I plant my feet in reality, even when it burns.
I carry accountability like a weight I have chosen.
Like a fire I walk through
to keep myself from burning in the shadows.

A lie may sparkle.
It may draw attention.
Earn nods.
Smiles.
Applause.

But it cannot hold bones.
Cannot hold a life.
Cannot hold me.

I would rather carry a jagged truth
pressed against my chest.
Feel its edges.
Its pull.
Its ache.

Than exist in a room of fragile illusions,
a world built on soft mirages
that crumble at the first wind.

Growth grows only in soil rich with the real.
Not in warmth.
Not in ease.
Not in the safety of what is easy to swallow.

Comfort can soothe.
But it does not teach.
Cannot stretch the spine.
Cannot open the chest.
Cannot build the life we need to inhabit fully.

Only truth shapes us.
Only truth lasts.
Only truth carries us
through storms.
Through quiet.
Through weight.

I will take reality, however raw.
I will take accountability, however heavy.
I will take life, as it is.
Over comfort.
Over ease.
Over lies.

My growth.
My being.
My future.
Depends on what is real.
Not on what is easy to believe.