Truth or dare


Yesterday in school we all were 16 again and played truth or dare. I am a big believer in having actual conversations instead of playing games which include lap dances or fucking walls on Easter. Not that I have any religious preferences. All religions are equally irrelevant.

When you grow up but still have to play truth or dare, you tend to bend the rules and do not tell the truth during “truth” questions, and do not do the dares which are degrading. But then you start talking about that time you almost got raped, and remember all the other stories, and think that maybe avoiding degrading stuff is more about trying to keep your bashit together, not about being not hip enough.

Don’t know why everything is always about trust and about reinventing yourself. All is a circle, may it be religion with a dude dying each year on the cross, a bunny laying chocolate eggs each spring or finding yourself in a new social group.

There is the same circle of socializing: a) become a part; c) avoid everyone  except one-two most truthful and daring,  keeping b) either super social, or super distant.

At one point or another, you play the game of truth or dare. How much you would reveal about yourself, how much you would dare to do for someone. The more the person makes you feel challenged, the more of truth you will reveal. I usually stop the game of socializing when it gets boring or repetitive, when the truth becomes irrelevant, or when the dares are about showing how big your cock is.

So on that note after this post in CB I will go back to writing about experimental music and weird cinema instead of describing the repetitive challenges of a 16 year old living the dream near the sea.


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