A Honey Drop of Doubt.

Transparency.

It’s all I ever want, all I ever ask for.

Too often, life is sugar coated. And while I love sweet things, my palette needs to be exposed to know the sour, salty, and bitter tastes of experience as well.

So f*ck it. Throw me in a hot wok with all of that sh*t.

Best learn how to face the fire head on, no?

I just want people to tell me the truth. Because at the end of the day, someone’s gonna get hurt either way.

Might as well rip the bandage off in one ‘go.’

For me, it’s better to have a minuscule spot of blood on the skin compared to a moistening, building infection under the latex or cotton coverings.

Besides, I’m resilient. 

So why, pray tell, am I most frightened when someone finally comes around and tells no lies and speaks words like honey?

Honey.

So sweet and so thick. So rich in the color gold. So crystal clear. One needs only a small spoonful to add flavor and in a short amount of time, the taste becomes an addiction.

How is it that something so pure has been placed in front of me?

Things I want, things that I’ve always wanted, but never asked for out of fear of being “too much,” are now being freely given to me without me asking, and it’s nice.

Quite wonderful, even.

And still, I doubt.

In my mind lives the thought of it all being “too good to be true.” The thought that the honey will lead me to a sticky situation that I cannot escape because I naturally get too involved. The thought that this addiction will lead to a deterioration of my health in one way or another, be it diabetes, weight gain, or my mental stability.

How rewarding it is to finally have something to savor after years of sitting at the table.

But how long until there is no food left on the plate and the emptiness settles?