I'm not really sure how it all started...
I catch myself blaming my mother, but now, in retrospect, I'm not entirely sure if that's true. Yes, she is very much similar to myself in this aspect, but does a simple similarity entail ownership or cause? No. That can't be the case. My similarities with everyone I've come into contact with over the years does not mean that they had legitimate say in my upbringing. On the other hand, our environment and the persons involved do have impact in how each and every one of us has developed. So, what is the answer?
By now, those of you who haven't been sent away by my jumble of dictation are still wondering what on earth I was originally speaking of. The answer of which may come as new, or possibly well known, news: my need to know the truth.
Unfortunately, I have this undeniable urge to know, no matter how trivial or unattached I am to the subject. This nosy nature of mine is most troublesome. It has gotten to the point where half-truths and lies hurt and upset me far more than blatant betrayal or physical violence. To know the truth is but an addiction I cannot break, nor do I very much want to. I enjoy knowing the seemingly unknown. I relish in the fact that multiple parties relay their lives to me, instilling the deepest and darkest of truths within me. It gives a sense of... importance. With this, I honestly feel like there is a reason for me to be here. A reason for me to be alive.
Sadly, I am cursed because of this for at times I know too much. I'll know of situations before they occur, or I know secrets that should be told to prevent the hardships of the future. And in this I feel most troubled because I honestly believe I can prevent the destruction of certain relations or whatever the subject involves. But... I do not speak. I never reveal what has been said. I refuse to because that is my promise to those who speak to me: complete and total confidentiality. I will not betray that trust.
In my own life, however, I see that I must fight for the truth. It rarely comes to me willingly. I must dig and prod and question and grill and hack and investigate until the truth is revealed to me. No matter what, though, I find out. I just wish the journey to the truth wasn't so irritatingly difficult.
So, dear readers, now you know that I know, or will know, anything and everything.
And that is my curse...
