All My Truths & One Lie, Prologue

Read All My Truths & One Lie’s prologue below. For more information about the book, click here.

 Prologue


dim stars & faded dreams 

When I was a little girl, I used to wander around the playground and contemplate life. I didn’t understand some things and understood others way too much. I processed information differently, in a weird way, and I didn’t understand why my friends were so . . . immature. Yes, at the ripe age of ten, I wondered why kids acted like kids as if I had some wisdom they didn’t have. It wasn’t that I did, I just saw things differently. 

I had friends, but I distanced myself. I needed to as a form of regaining my sanity, or center, or . . . I don’t know. Simply needing some time. Too in my own head, that’s what I was told. I was too serious. Too reserved. Too wild. A plethora of adjectives that didn’t always mesh, yet completed me. I couldn’t argue with those descriptions, I knew they were true. A girl who fantasized too much, warred with the desire of a fantasy and the need to accept life wasn’t that. 

And then I grew up. 

But nothing changed. 

I stare up into the sky and sigh. My eyes close for the briefest moment as the warm breeze kisses my skin. Sitting in the dark, wondering why I live in a place that outshines the stars, the artificial lights illuminating the insincerity that swirls around this city. I open my eyes to see one twinkling star. It brightens and dims as I look at it, wondering how far away it is and what it’s called. 

I push my body back to sit straighter in my chair and cover my face with my hands. How long do I have to stay here for? I keep telling myself I stay in the city because I still have lessons to learn from it. Maybe I need to stop judging it so much so that I may move on. Lord only knows. 

I check the time on my phone. I’m nowhere near tired, but if I don’t sleep now, I’ll be exhausted tomorrow when my alarm clock goes off at six-thirty. Five hours of sleep isn’t nearly enough for me to function anymore.  

I glance up at the sky one more time and blow out air through my mouth. Soon. I feel it in my soul. 

The last three years have been a pause in my life. I’ve discovered things about myself, grown internally, but the life I led has stopped. Almost as if I needed reclusion to overcome a hump. But that causes distance between myself and the world around me. The more I traveled within, the more I secluded myself. I can say it’s symbolic to Jesus’s forty days and forty nights in the desert. However, I’m no Jesus, and this seclusion didn’t ground me. Instead, it uprooted me, yet my body wouldn’t move forward. 

At first, I looked at that time as temporary. Then it became permanent. My perception of it became obsessive to the idea that I’d never move from it. Until I realized the peace in the moment. I removed veils of illusion and took the pause for what it was—a preparation for what’s to come. 

I feel the pull in my soul, guiding me like the wind against a sail. I can allow the guidance or resist it and risk experiencing the greatest shipwreck of my history. 

I choose to listen. I decide to go where the pull takes me when I’ve spent many nights staring at the sky like tonight, telling myself I wasn’t ready. 

I am. 

So many times, the tug I feel is familiar. Another soul calling to me, awakening this intense need from its slumbering state, just enough to rouse me. Then, it releases, not quite prepared for the intensity of our union, yet a consciousness of each other’s existence. It’s a building fire I stoke, gently allowing the flicker to intensify.

But I miss him. 

I don’t know him physically, and I miss him. My soul longs to be near his. In my sleep, I long to feel his arms around my body, his breath tickling my neck. I can sense him inside me. How can you miss someone you haven’t yet met?

Homesick for a person my eyes haven’t seen, but my soul is familiar with. We’ve danced together before in other times and I long to see him again. Hold him. Feel him near.

And I’m finally ready. 

That’s why I took this first step in the direction I want my life to go. 

Seeing as my mind is racing and my eyes are wide open, I stay outside in hopes I’ll catch a miraculous shooting star. The street light shines on the outside of my home. It’s small but cozy. This is what I need for now. As long as I have a chair, a small table, and open skies, I’m happy. 

Despite having this home, I still feel stuck. As if my soul is moving faster than my body. I see things shifting in my mind’s eye but don’t see the shift in my life around me. Or maybe I do. Sometimes it’s difficult to see the change when those around you are blind to it. But on the inside . . . on the inside, I feel as if my cells are shaking to a vibration that I’m unaware of. As if something inside of me wants to shake itself free and go at a speed I’ve never experienced in my life. 

Hence, my inability to rest. 

A surge of energy bursts, fueling my mind to think beyond the world I live in. I always have to take a minute to breathe and ground myself. It’s easy just to allow my mind to float to a world that many don’t believe in. It’s natural to see things with a different understanding. And it’s so difficult to bond with people because of this. So many times I keep quiet, leaving my ideas to myself in quiet observation. A few times I express what I’m holding, usually resulting in odd looks or silent disapproval. 

I shake off the feeling of not belonging and go back to admiring the stars. I can’t see the moon from here, but I know she’s out there. Another reason I wished I lived somewhere with less light and population. A forest in the middle of nowhere with traces of ancient civilizations and history so deep, it trespasses my bones and hits my soul. 

A place like that exists. I just need to find it. 

This is why you struggle to make friends. 

I roll my eyes and ignore the side of me that is rational. I’ve learned to embrace who I am. I’ve learned I may never meet anyone in their thirties who will share the inquisitive wonder I do. I’ve learned that there’s more to life than egotistical existence and material gains. 

But those have been easy lessons in comparison to the ones that tore me apart like an angry tiger and then sewed me back together like a gentle horse. 

— © 2018 Fabiola Francisco

Learn more here: authorfabiolafrancisco.com/amtaol

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The hatred will kill you

I recently wrote a post about being authentic to the outside world, and in turn to yourself. I expressed how I hadn’t been honest with myself or those around me simply because I only showed parts of myself to people depending on our connection. If they’re readers, I’ll only show them the author Fabiola. If they’re in the world of mindfulness and holistic healing, I’ll only show them the healer and meditation guide, the life coach. So on and so forth. 

I am tired of it. I’ve written a book that shows more of myself than anything in the past, and I’m terrified of sharing it. I’m terrified of people I know reading it. Strangers are okay, they don’t know me, I think to myself. But those that do? They’ll know it all. However, there’s a very strong reason I wrote this book, and an even stronger one to share it.

Although All My Truths & One Lie has a romance, the story is about much more than that. It’s about a woman learning to release every emotion, experience, hatred, she’s lived. It’s about a woman that has taken it upon herself to carry the weight of others. And it’s about the weight of family secrets and how our family lineage influences where we stand and the path we take. 

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It may sound a little hokey to some. That’s okay. Ultimately, this book is for me. Why did I decide to share it? Because I’ve learned through observing that I’m not the only one who feels this way. I’m not the only person who struggles with trauma and the after shocks. Mostly, because I learned I’m not alone and that is a mighty big lesson to learn. If I can help one person understand the same thing, my job is done. No, not job—purpose. This is about more. This book is about removing the mask and saying, hey this is me. And it’s about my own release of those that hurt me, of the confusion and pain. It’s about me finally understanding and accepting that I’m worthy of being loved. I’m worthy of more than I’ve given myself and accepted from others. 

I wrote it in pieces, in random scenes, based on emotions and experiences from my life. God, I’m admitting this “out loud” to a public. 

But here’s the thing—I had, have, so much anger and hatred in me. I was tired of carrying it. I’ve learned through the years that holding that emotion in only harms me. It only deteriorates me. The others live on with their lives blissfully unaware. Holding on to the hatred will kill you, will kill me. 

It does no good to do so, and while it’s so damn hard to forgive, it’s essential to our well-being. It’s something that will facilitate our happiness and peace. I said it once, forgiveness is hard as hell, so many times it seems impossible, but the liberation that comes with it is as if you can suddenly fly when you’ve spent a lifetime tied to the ground. And ultimately, forgiveness begins with ourselves. 

I found through this writing process that the anger I was holding mostly was at myself. I was using others as a punching bag because it was easier to blame them. I mean, they were responsible, right? But, deep within, I blamed myself. The reasons are infinite. I’m still a work in progress. My forgiveness is as well. One thing I know for sure is that I no longer want to carry what I was carrying. I no longer want to hold the responsibility of others over my shoulders, adding pressure to my own. 

I wrote a book that’s a cross between fiction and a memoir. I don’t even know what category to put it under. I wrote a difficult book, one that if it lands in the hands of some people, will create problems. But you know what? I’m tired of lies leading the path in our lives. I’m tired of the hatred. Not everyone will like our healing journey. Not everyone will approve of our process in releasing the things that have harmed us. People will prefer to see our flaws so they don’t have to look at their own. I’ll tell you this, no one will be happy with every choice you make. Live for yourself. Fight for your dreams. Hell, go for the life you want to live. Be honest. Live fully. Laugh and cry. Love yourself and love the world despite the flaws. 

Life is so much more than pain and victimhood. Take a step out of the norm and experience the magic of life without the pain we add to ourselves. Let go of the hatred and allow yourself to breathe in clean air and fill your lungs with something else besides the density of pain. Support each other and have compassion knowing we all have our shit but that shit doesn’t define us because we’re meant for more than hurt. 

The hatred will kill me if I don’t release it, but I made the choice to live without it—day by day, always a work in progress. 

It’s not our job to understand the motives of others. It’s our job to provide love for ourselves. So go on and love strongly and live bravely. 

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