Paying My Way To Heaven

Putting my list together
Christmas time again
And baby you're at the bottom
Cause hurting has a way of calling
When the dust of back stabbing settles
And I would wrap my presents in pay stubs
If it would bring you back to me.

Paying my way to heaven
To keep my boys in shoes
It's all I'm Living for
And baby it only gets worse
As long as you're pointing towards the door.

Baby it's about feelings
And I got a few
So you know what you can do
With all that lawyer nonsense
Giving you the blues.

Paying my way to heaven
To keep my boys in shoes
It's all I'm living for
And baby it only gets worse
As long as you're pointing towards the door.

Worked my last day
for the YMCA
It got me through
Two years of dealing
So what can I say
I'm still here
Kicking and screaming
Like the day I was born.

Paying my way to heaven
To keep my boys in shoes
It's all I'm living for
And baby it only gets worse
As long as you're pointing towards the door.

A little snow on the roof
It's more than proof
I can still out do
Any punk off the street like you.


Paying my way to heaven
To keep my boys in shoes
It's all I'm living for
And baby it only gets worse
As long as you're pointing towards the door.

From the Bottom Up

To the bottom they say a drunk must fall
or an addict at the end of his rope
to realize the damage caused by too much self indulgence;
Too many nights and too many days
caught up in killing the pain
of living every day with issues
heart ache and trying to stay sane
In a world gone mad.

Bouncing back from the bottom
is where I see things
I'm stuck in a battle
But not sticking needles in my veins
or stuck in a bottle;
I'm just a man whom someone lost their faith in
and I'm trying so hard to regain some sense of self respect.

But it seems I'm all out of second chances
and it has started to rain again
In spite of all the midnight cries for help
the prayers and chains of guilt like Marley's ghost
Condemned to roam the earth warning the living
not to complain of every penny spent on good deeds
or every dollar given in vain
To bring about a little happiness
Instead of profit and gain
for the good for goodness sake
and only heaven can count the cost
above any man's balance sheet of sin.

God knows today
I'm working from the bottom up
because their is no lower I can go
where light above will show. Amen

Slow Trains and Detours

Slow Trains and Detours The story of my life Trying to make ends meet Two kids and a wife... It all ended months ago She took the house The kids Most everything else But I'm still hanging on. And where is hope When hope is lost What remains Corn fields and cross roads Long walks in the rain Dealing with the pain Broken dreams Promises I could not keep And nights I could not sleep. Which way to faith When faith in question Takes an unexpected turn So profane To believe in human love Nothing to gain When all is lost And God remains. And where is hope When hope is lost What remains Corn fields and cross roads Long walks in the rain Dealing with the pain Broken dreams Promises I could not keep And nights I could not sleep. And where is the sunset When the dawn carries on Working all day long Just to hand it away A fool and hard earned pay Living for today Because there are no tomorrows. And where is hope When hope is lost What remains Corn fields and cross roads Long walks in the rain Dealing with the pain Broken dreams Promises I could not keep And nights I could not sleep. Good night my darling Darkness finally falls Sleep at long last calls And I will dream of days gone by When there were no trains or detours Just us and time alone To build a family and a home. - D. Wittler 10/13

Head Strong, Heart Weary

I don't care that it's' midnight
 And I got to be up at 6am
To do it all over again
 Driving in circles all day long
 No destination in sight
 Head strong
 Heart weary
 And with a little luck
I'll be longing less come morning.
Moonlight
 Stars shine in heaven
 Thinking about my favorite place
 Missing every moment I am away
 But I don't care that it's midnight
And I got to be up at 6am
To do it all over again
 Driving in circles all day long
 No destination in sight
 Head strong
 Heart weary
And with a little luck
I'll be longing less come morning.
Day break
 Sun on the horizon
 Heading out to god knows where
 No future in sight
But the clouds tell me it might just rain
And I won't have to shed one more tear
For the love I lost
But I don't care if its midnight
 And I got to be up at 6am
To do it all over again
Driving in circles all day long
No destination in sight
Head strong
Heart weary
 And with a little luck
 I'll be longing less come morning.

Witt's Den: In the Aftermath of Love

Witt's Den: In the Aftermath of Love

In the Aftermath of Love

A new poem I have been contemplating for a few weeks now. I guess I will find peace in my own way and through my own process. Thank you for stopping by to share my space. God bless. Read on...Witt

I awoke from a nightmare
In the aftermath of love
Devestation all around me
Numb to the feelings
 I once knew to be there
 Heart in pieces
Like some ceramic jar
Broken on the floor
No clear vision,
 Only despair
God help me approach the veil
Just end it anyway
 I don't really care
If tomorrow comes
Life is like eternal darkness
In the aftermath of love.

Feeding on memories
I'm growing old
Waking up cold
Counting the cost of war
In the aftermath of love
Words try to explain
 Meaning in pain
Drying eyes and red clouds
Rage like a storm
Washing away my former self
And I am changed forever
 In the aftermath of love.
                                              - D. Wittler 

Every Day Life

Every day life

Is like an open wound

Without you, I say

Regret and pain define me

Life goes on in spite of everything,

Until I kneel to pray.

Then,

I see why

Life becomes a window

Shining in darkness

Open to a bright blue morning sky.

Every day life

As each day

Regret and pain define me

Life goes on in spite of everything,

Until I kneel to pray.

Then,

Life becomes a winding road

Without you

Choices lead in all directions

But only one light load.

This is my church

A forest cathedral

In which to trod

That tells me

Who you are

My God.

Eternal life

Is like an open door

With you

My Savior, above

Who knocks and beckons;

“Come follow me,

and be the way of love."

                                 - D. Wittler 8/2013

Peace of Mind in Nature

Please bare with me this intellectual pursuit, but I must from time to time explore other options besides the depression and anxiety for which I have been plagued these past long months.

William Wordsworth commented on the intrusion of the industrial age with a disdainful eye as a hindrance to the connection of man to nature. To me, this does not merely say that we gain solely from a walk in the park the perspective on life that feeds our desire for meaning and order, rather, it implies also our interaction with one another as members of a community who are naturally bound by physical locale and allegiance to a common purpose. We find evidence for this perspective within the confines of a religious fraternity where all members share in the inheritance of the founder god who supplies all the necessary needs above and beyond creature comforts. Herein there lies the interconnection of reality, spirituality and rational thought. And so, we begin our transcendence from mere animal instinct towards a higher plain of understanding where moral character and standards of conduct lift us above the natural world. The following is my attempt to transcend all the fears of life lived on the inside by surrendering the selfish for the selfless on the outside. 

Outside Myself

Outside myself

Where wind and trees collide

And God abides

I find great wealth.

In turn a wellspring

Of memory and child-like innocence

Comes calling

To ease my man made plight

Where despair and strife

Turn out the light

And knowledge put back

Upon a shelf

Recedes with age

To gather dust

And return no more

As without a glimpse out doors

Where pine and spruce proclaim a holiday

from all dissonance.

To find joy is to mingle freely

And take the path of least resistance.

Untitled

I wrote this after watching the film: The Perks Of Being A Wall Flower. And then I found a web site that lists many of the stand out lines from the film and book. I wrote on my Good Reads page that I am a perpetual wall flower; I wonder if that makes me immortal in some strange way. Maybe I have never grown up, but there are no excuses left and I still find myself firmly planted in the awkward zone. I apologize for the shoddy poetry and lapses in posts lately; I'm still in mourning. Your patience is greatly appreciated.  

To Joyce.

I have no photographs to post,
just ancient ones hidden under my bed.
Of you,
only memories you cannot see.
But I have feelings to share,
if only you would believe
I am a human being.

So sorry,
that sorry will never be enough,
to heal the hole
I carved into your heart.

Forgiveness,
it sounds so funny now,
but something you cannot ask for
because it must be freely given.

Sorrow,
it is my middle name,
hidden between the pages
of a distant dream;
In the mean time,
I share fragments of time
with those I love most:
children, parents
and the Holy Ghost.

                          - Dale A. Wittler

It is the nature of souls to escape once in a while and go beyond the realm of flesh and blood. And it is the nature of flesh to sink deeper into the marrow of life here on earth. There are days like today when I feel as though I could walk forever down a country back road and never return home again. There are nights when all I can do is pray for the end to come so I can just fade away and leave this pitiful rotting corpse in the dust that it was drawn from. Tonight, I write it down so I don't forget that somewhere in all of this mess is a meaning and purpose just screaming to emerge, and all I have to do is wait it out for the sun to rise again on paradise lost...

Reconciled by Hope

 Woke up this morning

With this feeling

There was purpose

To my dreaming

All through the night

Heading in the wrong direction;

Now things seem right.

Reconciled by hope

At the end of my rope

Looking for a sign

A grand design

To bring me home

When the world says:

You’re all alone.

Working so hard

Sweat of my brow

It’s easy some how

To believe in nothing

And take all you can

While the getting is good;

But I’m a simple man.

God, I know it’s time

Down to my last dime

To get moving again

Come up with a plan

For turning right

Instead of going astray;

Oh lord I pray.

Reconciled by hope

At the end of my rope

Looking for a sign

A grand design

To bring me home

When the world says:

You’re all alone.

Facing the dark

Creating a spark

A fire to light my way

On a distant shore today

To warm my heart

Come what may,

And death do us part.

Reconciled by hope

At the end of my rope

Looking for a sign

A grand design

To bring me home

When the world says:

You’re all alone.

                      -D. Wittler 6/19/13

D- Day

I want to thank my good Friend Steve Walker for posting on facebook  this reminder of the anniversary of June 6, 1945, D-Day. It marks in the annals of history the beginning of the end to a conflict where countless lives were spent needlesly by the evil in men's hearts who were determined to rule by an iron boot rather than by the even hand of freedom and liberty. And so, my commentary:

The Longest Day in history for some; those who boarded the landing craft, saw their comrades die in waves of bloodshed and who survived to be haunted by the blank stares and missing extremities of strangers who never got the chance to see tyranny avenged by freedom's might. And to the crews who drove them to their doom and some who died under shell fire before they reached the beach head. What hell they must have endured; we can only imagine and be forever grateful for the sacrifice of so many. I can still hear Mitch Miller's theme song from the film: The Longest Day. In any fight for liberty,we cannot be fixated on counting the cost, for freedom is not free and to the casualties of war, eternal glory. D. Wittler 6/6/13

Transformed for My Father’s Sake

I woke up this morning thinking of the night before. Lying in bed all alone in the dark made me wonder why there are so many problems in the world, especially right here at home. And then I picked up the book I have been reading for the past three weeks or so: The Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren. Wouldn’t you know chapter twenty five is titled: Transformed by Trouble. As I read it, the fear and anxiety of my life was affirmed as a test and a trial of faith with a purpose; to be Christ-like.

I know that God has a purpose for my life and I must put aside my child-like ways and finally become the grown up he intended me to be. We are planted on this earth and we emerge from the darkness of our mother’s womb into the light of creation. And like the crops in the fields, the trees in the forests and the fruit ripening in the orchard, we must grow upwards in order to see the purpose for which our creator placed us here on earth. The only real way to do this is to experience life as it is here, unpredictable and harsh as it can sometimes be. And so I must look upon problems in the way that Floyd Starr defined as “opportunities” rather than as a hindrance or an obstacle to my happiness. How else does the diamond form if it were not for millennial amounts of constant pressure? How else does gold and silver become refined if not through the purification of fire?

And so, today I read a piece of scripture and take to heart what Romans 8:28 (NIV) states: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. I am also challenged by Rick Warren who asks the question: “What problem in my life has caused the greatest growth in me?” I have seen and heard what a spring rain can produce in the form of flood, lightening and thunder, and yet, I can take in the sweet smell of lilac and the serene vista of a quiet lake after a storm and feel the presence of God all around me in a sunset reflected upon its glistening surface. Like clouds which accumulate, spill their contents and dissipate into thin air, I must absorb my tears like a rain soaked field that has the potential to produce a bountiful yield… for my Father’s sake. Amen.

Home Away From Home

I still can’t accept it


Lying awake at night

Silence of an open window

Breeze blowing change over me

And I’m home away from home.


It started so long ago

But it feels like yesterday

You loving me in the shadows

Of a lonely back room

Forgetting about the past.


Home away from home

Didn’t want to say it

Till the moment sent me backward

Into the corner

Of some county court room battle

Now I’m regretting all over again

My home away from home.


Time heals all wounds

Or so they say

But my heart still feels it

Knife in the mid stream

Of a broken dream.


It’s late again

Seems the darkness calls me

Full moon screaming

What the hell are you doing?

Take me to my home away from home.


Home away from home

Didn’t want to say it

Till the moment sent me backward

Into the corner

Of some county court room battle

Now I’m regretting all over again

My home away from home.

Dark Night Singing

Closed up the shop

Headed out the door

One thing I knew for sure

It would be a long drive

Dark night singing.


Watched the sunset fade

Into a star filled sky

Didn’t know why

The tears weren’t forming

Dark night singing.


Opened up the window

Just to cool my face

Imaginary embrace

One last moment

Dark night singing.


And though it’s all over

My mind goes round and round

Upside-down over you

And love fades into darkness

As I round one more bend

On a road to nowhere

Or so it seems to me

Dark night singing.


Then it occurs to me

The rumbling road beneath

Becomes a melody

My soul can parody

Dark night singing…


And the words begin to flow.


And though it’s all over

My mind goes round and round

Upside-down over you

And love fades into darkness

As I round one more bend

On a road to nowhere

Or so it seems to me

Dark night singing.

           D. Wittler

Untie the Knot, You Fool

I found the words
And heard the tune
In streaming legal terms
Justice is not blind
It sees beyond the womb
Knows our secrets
Displays the doom
Of mortal combat
In a court room.

Through blood stained eyes
I saw the cross
It held me up
Carried me home
To a silent space
All alone...
Where misery resides
And blind men find
A rope to bind
Tying knots to size
Hoping to unleash the gloom.

A hundred million years
Will find no trace of us
We spent out time
Turned to dust
A pitiful race
But there is redemption
So, untie the knot you fool
And bury the old
Seek the new
In time all wounds heal
And truth lives once again.

D. Wittler 5/13

What can I say about this one? I came across Pink Floyd's "Final Cut" and it struck a chord in me. In spite of all that has happened over the last sixth months in my life, I find something to write about that might resemble poetry. What a treasure to behold!

Monday Monologue

A follow up piece to my last entry. I'm thinking about doing a series on this theme. Your thoughts are appreciated. So, here goes...

Monday Monologue



Monday, May sixth, 2013
Back to where my married life began
Now, only memories
The fountain I once thought
Would never stop
Has gone silent

The books I used to surround myself with
Speak volumes of past lives’
As if I had died
And been reborn a stranger.


First Methodist tolls the six o’clock hour
While “Peace is Flowing Like a River”
Calls from Sunday morning.
My neck aches from sleeping hard
Unknowing of what tomorrow brings.


Life has become a maelstrom
Drawing everything within sight
Downward
Like a giant drain after a hot bath
While a once close friend sparks anew
Hope in the written word.
You are my hero.

Empty Chair Monologue

I met up with some old friends on Sunday and we sat and visited for a while. After all of the drama that has been going on in my life lately, it was great to just catch up, share and have a few good laughs. I often wonder why things happen as they do, but from what I have been reading lately, nothing in life is unplanned or without purpose; the only unfixed variable is our response, otherwise known as "choice." We can either wallow in the mire of the moment, or we can raise it up as an opportunity to make it more. Like the servants who were charged with protecting the masters talents, we can bury them for safe keeping and only give back what we received, or we can invest a little time, effort and skill to produce more of a good thing than what we started with. I took this thought to heart last night as I was preparing for bed. I decided to take the drama of the past and to transform it into something more. The following is the result of a conversation with friends and means for healing. Thank you William Faulkner and William Shakespeare.




Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow,

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time,

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

And then is heard no more: it is a tale

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

Signifying nothing.

“Macbeth” William Shakespeare

Midnight driving

Gentle tolling

Wesley United Methodist

Fading into nothingness

Pulling away from old memories

Reminiscences of bygone days

Sound and fury raises

In my mind a cacophonous roar.

Empty chair monologue

Solace in darkness

Drama plays raw emotion

Man-tears of utter desolation

Like nuclear winter

Destroying all hope

No resolution

No consolation.

Fearful imaginations

Accusatory language

Cross examinations

Peering out from roadside shadows

Like deer caught in headlamps glow

Red eyed and paralyzed like foe

Before the shot gun blast

I am no hero.

                                 -D.A. Wittler

Back to Life

I wanted to share an experience I had last night. It goes to show the power of dreams and perhaps how God speaks to us in mysterious ways. Dream on and believe!

I remember that day in November
Before the snow began to fall
Hit me like a cannon ball
She said it was over
There was no turning back.

Now I’m searching
Trying to find what’s left
Of my heart
Because this whole process
Has left it cold and dead
in my chest.

But today is April
and spring has found me
Like the trees outside,
Budding back to life.

Back to life
Like my Savior
Emerging from a tomb at Easter
With wings from heaven
Some day I hope to fly again
On the wind of God’s own breathe
But until that time,
I’m slowly coming back to life.

Snow came in December
Chilled me to the bone
Not a dime in my pocket
Because the bills,
like drifts kept piling
And she kept screaming
“It’s all your fault I’m dealing,
with this heavy load alone.”

And now it’s four in the morning;
Can’t sleep from all the dreaming
Of days gone by.
Left me cold as a stone
Buried in the ground.
But now I’m just plain tired
In need of a way back home,
Away from this dying.
So I’m praying
Slowly coming back to life.

Back to life
Like my Savior
Emerging from a tomb at Easter
With wings from heaven
Some day I hope to fly again
On the wind of God’s own breathe
But until that time,
I’m slowly coming back to life…

Slowly coming back to life
Coming back to life
Back to life
To life
To life…
Life!
Amen.

- D.A. Wittler 4/16/2013

Witt's End

I first want to apologize for bringing my sob story to the world wide web, but I have nothing better to do today other than surf the web looking for the most painless ways to end my pathetic life. Secondly, I want to share what I learned from some body who told me the secret to getting through the day is to stop thinking about the darkness and to focus on serving others; something I already know, but sometimes hearing it from another person's point of view makes it easier to digest and process in your mind.

I just keep seeing how this damn divorce is dragging on and on and how deep down inside I cannot bring myself to hate my soon to be ex-wife. I have driven down the darkest country road at midnight daring myself to pull into the path of a telephone pole, but something inside screams in my ear "NO!" I hate these mini anxiety attacks that hit me from out of the blue, but they usually subside very quickly which tells me there is hope. Maybe if I keep up the whole writing thing and share this agony with you, there might be a second chance in it for all the others who are walking the same path as I am.

Finally, as this beautiful Spring day continues to flood into this room and adds light to the darkness inhabiting my brain, I can see tomorrow looming in the distance inviting me or daring me to find a reason to keep on going in spite of it all. Well, I guess I can accept that for now and it sure beats reserching gun shows. I would never want to pass this darkness bug on to anyone else beacause it really is a nasty contagion, so I guess I'll give you the free version of the vaccine that helps keep the darkness at bay; they call it faith, hope and love and the greatest of these is love. Christ spoke these words over two thousand years ago as he was plauged by visions of a horrible death on a cross. If that is not enough for a person to be encouraged to walk away from darkness, then I know of no greater way to finding happiness. Thank you for sharing my space today, you just may have saved a life. And so for today, this is not the end. God bless. -Witt

Worth The Weight?

I wonder tonight about a few things that may seem trivial to some, intriguing to others and a waste of time to those too caught up in their own little cocoon of a world to care. I wonder why the whole process of divorce has to push you to the point of hating someone you once loved intensely and whole heartedly. I cannot imagine how it solves anything to condemn a man when he is down and then torment him about money when he has nothing left but the clothes on his back and an automobile. I wonder if it is worth the weight on my mind to consider ending a life so full of promise, yet fraught with failure. God help me sort through this mess of a life; even as I contemplate a long drive home tonight screaming at an empty car seat  and imagining who might be there causing me to do so. It makes my life seem even more pathetic; yet faith says that things happen for a reason.

Is there really a plan for us or are we just random bits of coded DNA attached to an orb orbiting a sun that  happens to be precisely positioned to support life? Does the atheist care if all this randomness leads to theories that explain so diverse an array of life all evolving from a single cosmic event? And like that ultimate question that arises from a story of survival about a boy and a Bengal tiger: Which do you prefer, the pitiful account of humans behaving badly on the open sea, or that God lets us decide a few things and then presents a challenge for us to figure it all out on our own? The weight on my mind certainly makes me wonder if the wait for answers is really worth the time of day. Decide for yourself if any of this makes sense as I doubt any person will even read this blog.

A Good Day

I dedicate this latest poem to my mom who lost a close friend, companion and pet over the weekend. I also dedicate my life to living day by day in the hopes of accepting the grieving process and moving on through divorce.

A Good Day



It was a good day,
a cold windy day,
but a work day.

It was a challenge day,
a flat tire on the car day,
a day in which bad news
about a sick pet
brings a tear to your eye,
but many fond memories to mind.

It was an opportunity day,
a phone call to a son day
and a day to thank God
for one more chance to get it right
even when others
won't give you that chance.

Yes, it was a good day,
to laugh,
to cry
and know that someone loves you
just the way you are,
today.

                          D.Wittler- 13

Thorn Bottom Lake

I want to thank a fellow scouter friend of mine for posting a picture and comment on a certain social networking web site about the recent flooding in our area of Northwest Ohio. Thanks Verl Dasher for sharing Brad Dysinger's post. Here goes, a work in progress...previously titled: A View of Thorn Bottom.

I read your post only moments ago

and took in a view of Thorn Bottom,

Where thaw took hold of winter only yesterday;

causing me to long for Spring.


But alas, days have only begun to stretch

beyond a solstice strain

where flurries return in short measure,

to invigorate warm fingers with pain.


Flood water invades plain

Where field number 2 once was

and thus there is no trace, no lane

to take me there again.


To church where we gather

There is no bridge of hope

no rails contain

are covered now from rain.


And I thought to myself

from memory of travel

How countryside far and wide

was so rudely affected.


These Northwest Ohio winters

How they have changed

From blizzard of “78”

To these el Niño’s I hate.


Now laughing as I gaze

upon a memory of sight

of fields overlooking lakes

and geese on ice skates.

                                     D.A. Wittler 1/14/13

Verum Vulnero “The Truth Hurts”

“What is truth?” Pontius Pilate asked Jesus this question before washing his hands and ordering Jesus’ crucifixion. I have often pondered this piece of scripture, especially during the Lenten season because the outcome had far more reaching consequences than any human mind could have fathomed at the time. If there is any sense to be made of this then we must look upon our own lives’ for answers. Each of us derives meaning from several sources including formal education, personal experience and from what we glean from our own spiritual pursuits; but what of truth?

We have all been reminded by parents, teachers, coaches and friends that “the truth hurts.” Whether it comes in the form of a life lesson derived from a particular relationship or through mistakes we have made and must make amends or accept as irreversible; life is filled with these difficult to fathom truths. In my own life this could be no less explained than from the fact that my wife of nineteen years is divorcing me. While I am becoming more and more accepting of the idea, the fact remains that there are far more dire circumstances at stake than simply the ending of a marriage. With two teenage sons to consider, I am torn by the fact that they must deal with the pain that has resulted from largely my own failings and imperfections as a mortal man. And so we must look at the uncertainties of truth as well as the absolute.

I have been accused according to a legal term of: “gross neglect of duty” in my marriage, a charge that is highly suspect and lends itself to some kind of explanation. The truth part comes into play as the question of intent, which by law in my state does not need to be proven. The truth is that I lost faith in myself, the system and the God in which I grew up with and learned to turn to in time of need. On the other hand, I neglected to meet the needs of my spouse and to our marital vows; that is how I have come to understand the charges as they have been explained to me.  And because I failed to make amends or “change”, the marriage is deemed irreconcilable. If that is not an example of the hurt of truth, then perhaps a little further digging is required.  

I never intended to neglect my wife nor cause her any emotional harm because of what has been assumed as selfishness on my part. The truth is I fed on guilt, shame and the unworthiness I felt at having failed to provide for my family in a manner up to a standard largely undefined. I never sought to file for a dissolution, divorce or decree ending the marriage, and I certainly never intended to purposely divide our family by such means. The real hurt comes as I somehow still believe in my heart that miracles can and do happen. What I cannot accept is that my other half is somehow unwilling to examine our marital vows as pertaining to her in any of the grossly intentional actions she has committed towards the marriage and our family. That my friends is for the court and God to judge which is precisely my point: “verum vulnero.” The truth really does hurt.