Several months ago in the midst of a conversation with a colleague, he suddenly stopped abruptly mid-sentence. “I can’t believe how honest you are. You don’t hold anything back, do you?” Well, I can’t say whether it was a compliment or a criticism – probably a bit of both.
I would love to say that my forthrightness stems from some noble impulse. But that would be a lie. And perhaps honesty is not the right word for it at all, because the concept of honesty assumes conscious intent. And it’s really much more basic than that. I simply do not know how to be otherwise.
My bluntness, though, has not been a boon. If I could play the part - and shut up f*ck up when the occasion calls for it - I would probably be more successful. I would undoubtedly have more friends. People would probably respect me more. And believe me, I’ve tried. But like a suit or dress that’s too tight, it keeps me from being able to breathe. Maybe it’s a copout, maybe I’m just lazy, or maybe I’ve finally just accepted myself, because, like the good sailor says, I am what I am.
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