Today, I shall tell you a story, like a raconteur. But this story doesn't start with a 'Once upon a time', nor does it end on a '..happily ever after'. It's a different kind of story. Maybe it's not a story after all. Maybe the raconteurs have better stories than the one I'm about to tell.
It is a story, far away from an epiphany, close enough to an untold fact. While I was climbing up my initial steps of the ladder of my life, I was told a clear difference between good and bad. Truth was good, lie was bad. It was easy, if one day I didn't bring my homework, I knew it would be a good thing to say the truth. It was as simple as that. But as I continued stepping on the ladder, I came to know about the things that weren't told to us. It turned out that such things were to be figured out on our own. Like sometimes when people are telling you the truth, they are actually lying. It was so confusing to come across this realization. Everyone whom I met on my way, kept on telling me that I'm too innocent to differentiate between the good and the bad. I laughed at them for I clearly knew the difference between good and bad. But the joke was on me. They were right about the grey areas. I used to rely on the 12 coloured pencils set. It didn't have the grey colour, you see. I still don't know how to cope with seeing what's not there. Why have they made their lives so complicated? It used to be so easy. Why do, like they say, I have to look conspiratorially at a person who's good to me? Why does good has to be bad? Why does black has to be grey? They say I'm innocent? Does knowing about the real good and bad mean that I'm innocent? Wow. Why did they teach me about being innocent, then? I'm a bad judge of character. Tell me you're good and I'd believe you with this hope that you, like me, also know that same old good we've been taught about, when we were kids. Wait, does it make me a bad judge of character? Shouldn't it make me an honest judge of character? Wait, why do I have to judge, anyway? Who has given me the right to do that? I have a better substitute, I'd like to call it believing. I believe bad is just a messed-up good. I believe bad is for those who are ignorant about the good.
So I've been left in wonders since the day I've come to this realization about people wearing invisible masks to conceal the reality. What's even more surprising, that everyone else seems to know about this little secret already. Even more ridiculous is the fact that this secret is not a secret since everyone else seems to know about it but nobody says it openly because an untold fact is never told openly. I don't like untold facts. What's with being so puzzling? So this story, altogether, is close to a riddle. Either it's a riddle whose answer everyone knows, but nobody tells. Or, it's a riddle whose answer nobody knows and everybody tells. This story, like I mentioned above doesn't end here. Is this even a story? Because, good usually defeats the bad in a story. Well, it was supposed to be that way, I was almost about to defeat the bad by the mighty good, when they told me that the good is not actually good. They ruined my story. Now I can't really tell whether the good defeated the bad, like it's supposed to do, because the good could just be a camouflaged bad. I'm not liking it.
I still believe in my version of good. I still believe in the old version of good. I don't see any point in the invention of the improvised version. Why is believing made so hard? I want to believe. I want to keep believing. Can I count on myself for believing others? Would this story ever get a 'happy ever after'.
I'm not a good raconteur.
