"Passing Faces, Quiet Truths"
As I got older,
As I got older,
I learned that loyalty without honesty has no weight.
It stands, but it does not endure.
I no longer follow names, titles, or the comfort of belonging.
Friends, family—when something is wrong, it must be named.
Not to wound, not to humiliate,
but because growth does not come from being spared the truth.
Those who truly care are rarely the loudest.
They speak quietly.
They risk silence.
They choose the difficult kindness of correction
over the easy warmth of applause.
I do not seek yes-men.
I seek those who can tell me where I failed,
and who can stand beside me while naming their own.
Comfort passes. Approval fades.
Only accountability remains.
If honesty keeps a friendship real, I choose it—
even at the cost of ease, even at the cost of what once was.
Sometimes, if that means standing alone, so be it.
People come and go.
At first there is greeting and recognition.
Later, there is distance.
Sometimes even forgetting—who are you?—
spoken not from confusion, but from the desire to
erase a past that no longer fits.
Sometimes, a stranger- even a Whore,
can show more kindness
than someone who once called themselves a friend.
Some pass through gently,
asking nothing, leaving no wound.
Others stay longer,
learn your name, share your table—
and still treat you like a moment they never meant to keep.
I accept this without resentment.
All meetings are temporary.
All partings are already written into the meeting.
When truth is spoken with care, it is not meant to shame.
It is meant to prepare the ground.
And when I am left with only myself
and what I have chosen to carry,
let it be honesty,
let it be clarity,
let it be the quiet knowledge that I lived
without betraying what I knew to be true.