Funny, this game of Truth and Dare.
They said I have to choose, if I dared truth.. I’d have to answer a naked honest answer to whatever they might ask.. If I chose dare, I’d have to reach the finish line of that task.. with no backing out, whatsoever.
I always chose truth. Because that was a big enough of a dare.
I was never scared. I had nothing to hide from the world.
Still, I had this lurching pull in the pit of my stomach every time the bottle spun to me. I delft this uneasy excited quease in me.. Did I not want them to ask me something? … Or did I really want them to ask me, that very question. That very answer that never quite escaped my lips, and yet, I wanted the world to know. I wanted the world to know how I felt about that one question.
Because it made a difference.
Not to them, but to me.
Thank god they didn’t ask me that regret I held. Thank god they didn’t ask me about that hint of sadness that somehow lurks in the hues of my crazy euphoric self. Thank god they never questioned that smile of irony, that I hoped they missed. Thank god.
But what a pity, they never asked me why I held that regret. What a pity they never asked me why that sadness lurked even in the brightest of lights. What a pity they missed that smile of irony, that smile, that perhaps would have let open everything that I might have held in me, for a while. For a long while.
I wanted to be heard.
Or.. maybe I wanted to carry those smiles and perhaps laugh about them on my own, when I grow up. Grow up to not feel so strongly about everything and anything.
But who am I fooling?
Yes, I wanted to be heard.
What a pity they found the game boring just when it was reaching its prime.. Funny how I want them to ask me. Ask me just those few questions that maybe I asked myself, the most.
Funny, this game of truth and dare.