To tell the truth
Telling the truth isn’t merely a matter of integrity, it gets at the very core of trust.
If you catch a friend in a lie—not a harmless white lie, but a real one—you may forgive them, but you won’t forget it easily. Something fundamental has shifted. You no longer know when they might mislead you again. Over time, trust may be rebuilt. You care about them, you may come to understand why they lied, and perhaps they will make genuine amends. Still, a small residue of doubt remains. Trust can return, but it is no longer effortless.
Now consider a stranger. If they lie to you, you will likely never trust them again. The betrayal may sting less, because there is no emotional investment, but that absence cuts both ways: you have no reason to forgive them or to take the risk of trusting them again.
If it is someone you already dislike, a lie simply confirms what you believed all along. It doesn’t just destroy trust—it supplies further justification and ammunition for contempt.
Now when it comes …




