The Divine Journey of a Girl to Authenticity
Through the self-deceiving hell of clichés to the paradise of all truths
Hell of Lies
I want to tell you a story.
This is my first story and probably I am not very good at it. Sorry about that! English is not my best language either. But in the end, I think those are only excuses that prevent someone from being their true self…
Truth is, I hate clichés. Why? You will find the answer if you follow me all through this journey.
So in my story, there is this little girl who early understood that life was easier for people who lied. They could invent an enormous amount of lies to justify their actions and as far as she could see, they seemed to be pretty happy with that. The bigger, the more credible those lies were.
Like someone pretending he had built an empire entirely on his own but in fact, many hidden forces had helped him achieve that. And moreover, the empire wasn’t his at all…
Growing up she understood that life was even easier for people who thought and acted just like everybody else. Who talked like everybody else, using a shameful amount of mainstream phrases, quotations, and the like.
Yes, lying made life easier for some people. But a lot of skills were needed to tell that perfect lie that doesn’t seem like a lie and make the majority believe it.
“A good liar knows that the most efficient lie is always a truth that has had a key piece removed from it.” writes my favourite author (not that you care about!) Carlos Ruiz Zafon in The Prisoner of Heaven.
An uncovered lie was ugly and the uncovered person even more.
Not everyone had the gut to accept he was a liar and keep on living peacefully with that clear knowledge always present inside his head.
Being just like the rest, on the other hand, needed less effort. Yes, you had to lie to yourself once, twice, or more to bend your will and thoughts to follow the herd but after that, you could live in peace.
You would truly believe that your thoughts, your ambitions, your desires were yours and yours alone, and only by chance, they were similar to the ones most of the people had.
So she thought she could live a serene and happy life following those guidelines and attempted to do it. She liked being original (but not authentic!) and as an original human being, she invented her mantra: “Sincerity is overrated! Sincerity is overrated!”
She kept repeating it until she believed it was true. And for some time she went on living a tranquil life. Nobody questioned her choices or criticized them. She didn’t talk much about herself or her thoughts, keeping her opinions to herself or saying as little as possible creating the illusion that she really was just like anybody else.
She didn’t like standing up for people or causes trying to avoid as much as possible that word she hated the most: Sincerity.
Purgatory of clichés
For some time the girl kept following her mantra faithfully until she discovered there was something she couldn’t accept. Deep inside she always knew it but time had to pass for her to process it. She hated clichés. Of all types.
Some clichés were too obvious and quite laughable. Things like: “Fight hard and all your dreams will come true.”, “If you do what you love and follow your passions, you’ll never work a day.”, “Life is beautiful, enjoy it.”…
Why do people have to repeat what everybody else already knows? Moreover, why do people have to accept them as universal truths?
Some clichés were undercover. There is this fine line between a strong, well-thought opinion of a person based on his experience and some quote he has borrowed from an internet guru, a Greek philosopher, Albert Einstein, or the writer of the moment.
Stephen Hawking in one of his speeches states the famous: “While there is life, there is hope” and it’s inspiring knowing his story.
An influencer that uses it to express his hope to go out and party after the isolation is over…well, that’s the mother of mainstream thought.
And then there were those clichés, the most dangerous ones. The clichés of behaviour and attitude. The classical: “I do it because everybody else does it.” or “I want to be called a CEO even though I have nobody but myself to work with.”, “I want to be an entrepreneur because people would like me better and praise me for my choice”.
So the girl was torn. She didn’t want to expose herself or her opinions. There was something good in that. She could hide. She could dislike people and get along well with them. People disliking her had that sense of guilt for knowing her too little and did the same.
Above all, she could not hurt people’s feelings in any way, or so she thought. It felt good to be accepted, at times even admired.
But despite that, the growing feeling she wasn’t capable of thinking or acting like everybody else was prevailing.
She didn’t belong.
And what a scary thing the feeling of not belonging was. Not being part of the group. Not being able to share. Yes, it was terrifying.
But then something happened. It was a progressive change. Not one happening in a moment’s time. When she first accepted it, when she first said out loud to herself: “I do not belong!” suddenly she was free.
Paradise of true intentions
People always think they can recognize a hero when they see one. Dressed in an eccentric outfit, performing eccentric tasks. Few of them stop and think that those are only movie superheroes and do not exist out of cinema theatres. Because real heroes go unnoticed.
They seem like normal people, doing plain common things most of the time. Then there is that one time when they show they are true heroes. But the majority of people do not realize it. They are not able to capture that one time because they are too busy or too focused on themselves and their superficiality.
One doesn’t know he is a hero until he becomes one. Sometimes one doesn’t know he is a hero despite having become one, because those things that make a difference, those things a true hero is made of, are hidden.
The strength of their will, the steeliness of their nerves, the tranquil but steady fire burning in their hearts…
No, people can’t recognize a hero when they see one because as the Little Prince states: “What is essential, is invisible to the eyes.”
For a long time, the young girl wished to become a superhero. She wanted to save lives and help people face dangerous threats. She wanted to be distinguished for her bravery. Deep inside she knew she was seeking glory and recognition as she had seen it in the movies, but no true hero would wish for those things.
A phone call never expected made her realize that. Heroes fought hard battles, faced dangerous threats. And they were alone with only their will, their courage and their unstoppable hearts to support them. Because people didn’t know. Sometimes people didn’t even care.
That’s why she couldn’t be one. It was just another cliché. Maybe the last, waiting to be broken…
It was difficult for her to accept she was no angel with a guaranteed place in Paradise because of her good intentions. After all, the way to hell is paved with good intentions. She was just another self-centred, somewhat shallow person who tried to be bright and original without being herself. She was not sincere. And by not being sincere to others she was forgetting to be true, at least, to herself.
When she finally came to terms with reality she decided not to try anymore. She couldn’t become a hero just because she wished to, but she could live with eyes wide open and search for those common, undercover people that possessed those things that only true heroes have, without realizing it. People who could become great one day and needed some encouragement. Diamonds in the rough.
Maybe someday she could have her own chance to be a silent hero. That lifelong awaited chance would remain her most authentic dream.
Meanwhile, she discovered that sincerity was not as difficult as she thought. When she started being sincere, she couldn’t stop.
She was not at all shocked to realize she was not born to satisfy people’s expectations. They wanted her to be always nice and smiling but she couldn’t do it. She wanted to be nervous or angry and show it. To dislike people without hiding her feelings. Yes, the power of loving everyone would be Perfection but she wasn’t perfect and she had stopped caring.
She wanted to like pink. To watch telenovelas. To cry her eyes out every time ‘A walk to remember’ was on TV. To read and appreciate Dan Brown books while loving Marquez or Dostoevksij as well. She wanted to dance Latin music or hear Spanish song ballads and have the Beast has her favourite Disney Princess. To adore Italy despite not being Italian.
Without all those voices encouraging her to be original OR to be just like the others. To have particular tastes so she could be interesting and mysterious and attract the right people OR to be as normal as she could possibly be, so people wouldn’t notice she was in fact, a strange creature.
When she let those voices be, she was free. All that mattered was knowing herself and her true intentions and letting people know her too. The ones that cared stayed and the others didn’t.
Losing people did hurt but that was a necessary evil to gain the Paradise of Authenticity.
After all, that was a thing she could never lose. And maybe someday, in another dimension or time, someone with eyes wide open would come to her and tell her she had become a hero, this time for the right reasons.
