Disclaimers

At writing camp,

I learned two life lessons;

No disclaimers,

And lies are not part of the human condition.

Follow those,

And people will listen.

No disclaimers;

They are just there to tell them that you aren’t quite you,

Sugarcoat what’s true.

Lies are not part of the human condition;

We break ties and hide behind the power of words

But that isn’t you.

It made me laugh,

You know.

I didn’t care

For the exclamations of “no disclaimers”

Every moment I tried to see eye to eye

With what I thought they wanted me to be.

Because disclaimers are words,

They hold power,

But they can never define you,

Least of all by trimming away soul.

A lie told often enough becomes fact.

Becomes fat,

Fed on self-doubt,

Hate and fear.

Fat with years of the masquerade,

Dodging guests and friends,

To sit out in the cold.

You tell them that you are all right.

That it’s your fault,

But it is.

According to you,

Every disclaimer is somehow sickeningly true.

That you eat too much,

Are too lazy,

Too arrogant,

Too weird.

That your words aren’t good enough,

That they can leave now,

‘Cause they won’t be missing much.

No disclaimers means they can at least find out.