I feel like I’m lying. Or maybe I’m not lying, maybe I’m just… choosing not to see. Choosing not to hear the things that sit just beneath the surface. The subtle shifts in tone. The questions that form quietly in the back of my mind. The answers I already know, but don’t want to say out loud.

It’s easier this way.

Like a horse with blinders on, I keep my focus straight ahead, only what’s in front of me, only what feels good, only what doesn’t hurt. And right now? Everything is good. Everything is great. There are no arguments here. No tension. No uncomfortable truths waiting to be uncovered. Just calm water. Just quiet. Just… peace.

But I know what I’m doing. I’m staying in the shallows. Careful not to step too far forward. Careful not to wander into deeper waters where things aren’t so clear, where the ground isn’t so steady. Because I know what lives there.

Questions.
Doubt.
Truth.

And truth has a way of breaking things or maybe just revealing that they were already broken to begin with. So I stay here instead. In this soft, filtered version of reality, where everything looks a little warmer, a little kinder, like I’m seeing it all through rose-colored glasses. It’s beautiful here. But it’s fragile too.

Because I can feel it… even if I pretend I can’t. The way the edges blur just slightly. The way certain thoughts try to push their way in, only to be quickly silenced. The way I hesitate, just for a second, before I reassure myself that everything is fine. Because as long as I don’t look too closely… it is fine.

Right?

How long can this really last? How long before the shallows dry up, before the water pulls back and leaves everything exposed? How long before the rose-colored glasses lose their tint, and I’m forced to see everything exactly as it is? Can I really live like this? Can I really keep choosing comfort over clarity, illusion over truth? Can I really keep myself here, in this carefully constructed version of peace, just to avoid a little bit of pain?

Maybe I can.

Maybe I do.

Even if it’s only for a moment. Even if it’s just long enough to catch my breath. To build my defenses back up. To prepare myself for whatever waits beyond this quiet, shallow space. Because sometimes… we don’t avoid the truth because we don’t know it. We avoid it because we’re not ready to face what it might take from us. So for now, just for a little while longer—

I’ll stay here.

In the shallows.
In the warmth.
In the illusion.

Not because I don’t know better… but because, right now,

it hurts less this way.

But the thing about staying in the shallows…
is that eventually, something pulls you deeper.

And I think I’m starting to feel it now… no matter how much I try to ignore it.

—Bella Imperia

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