How honest are you?

I’ve been pondering truth a lot these past couple days – probably because it was a main theme in the last two books I read.

I wonder how honest people really are. But wondering that is pointless because there’s no way to answer that.

Then it made me wonder how honest I am.

I’m honest with my opinions. I’m honest with my emotions (my face is a dirty traitor, so there’s no point in hiding them). I’m honest when I’m asked things.

But only to a point.

I’ve always held in a lot of what eats at me because I don’t want to burden others with my problems. They have their own issues, I tell myself. They don’t need mine as well.

But I’m a phony. I welcome others to open up to me, and I do my best to help with whatever they’re facing. No matter the difficulty, I am willing to face it with them. I consider it part of being a friend.

But more often than not, I deny those close to me the opportunity to do the same – to be a there-for-me-no-matter-what friend.

Is it because I don’t trust them? No. Is it because I don’t want them to know? Definitely not – in fact, it usually comes out in some capacity. But even then, I work hard to gloss over the issue and insist they not trouble themselves over lil ol’ me.

My first instinct tells me it’s a classic case of a lacking self-esteem. My second instinct says “pssshhh” to the first and says it’s just part of me wanting to be a good friend and protect those close to me – even when it’s myself. And my third instinct just says I’m crazy and think entirely too much.

After staring at the screen for five minutes, I’ve hit a writer’s block. This entry is incomplete and somewhat unclear, and the editor in me says it’s blasphemy to click the “publish” button. The side of me questioning my honesty says it’s exactly the right thing to do.