No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Saturday, 15 May 2010

Someday I'll be Saturday night.

I lie.  A lot.  To everyone.  Everyday.  True, I lie to some people more than others; we all know there are some things you just don't admit to your parents and when asked you smile politely and make something up, because it saves you all a lot of emotional trauma in the long run, and yes, some people I lie to more, and some people I lie to less, and it depends on the circumstance.  But make no mistake, I am, a compulsive liar.  I will lie and make something up for no real reason, there's no necessity, there's nothing to be ashamed of, or to protect, no job to try and get, no cute boy to impress, I will just lie.  And I'll know I'm doing it.  And I'll think to myself, why the hell am I saying this, I've no reason to.  But I'll lie nonetheless, as I say: compulsive.  I physically (or should it be mentally?) cannot stop myself.

And like any good habitual liar, it's such a part of me, that there are lies which have become entire truths about my life.  I've fooled my own memory into being unable to tell the difference between the lie world, and whatever the reality is/was.  Which is superbly useful should I ever be quizzed about them on a lie detector machine for some reason, as my memory will just have the same consistent suspicious paranoia about anything it tries to remember, but it does make it hard to work out, should the mood ever strike me for some bizzare reason, what I need to confess as false, and what's fair and valid.  And even if I could remember what I need to own up to, I can't remember what there is to replace aforementioned owning up.

I'm not entirely sure why I have this consistent urge to lie, even in instances when the truth is actually far more interesting.  Maybe it did grow from an attention seeking thing, from trying to impress people, from trying to seem worthwhile (I had issues as a child.  I still have issues, I'm just old enough to fight off anyone who tries to drag me to the psych office without a heavy, heavy dose of drugs, and some restraints), but whatever the reason and deep rooted psychological damage within me, I lie everyday about all kinds of things.  What I got up to, about the random stranger on the bus, that I ordered a hot chocolate instead of a coffee, wierd little inconsquential things.  And then some bigger very consequential things from time to time.

My admission of this is nothing new, I've freely admitted to people I'm a compulsive liar before, I'm just very good at making both you and me believe that it's the truth from years of experience. I know how not to make my lies too fanciful.  And you'll never quite know what I'm lying about and what I'm not.  But then, as I've discussed, I'm not entirely too sure myself either.

Of course, now you're all going to wonder if you ever really knew me, if I could ever really be trusted, if I ever can again, if the person you think you're friends with is the person you really know or not, and so on and so forth.  I can't silence these doubts for you I'm afraid.  If it's a comfort, than as I said at the beginning, I do it to everyone to varying degrees, so its not like I'm holding any form of grudge against you personally.  In fact this blog probably contains the least lies, or at least conscious lies, about me, as that's sort of the point, and I think this still shows mostly the same person.  Possibly a lot more emo than you're used to, but that's cause one of my lie traits, is the ability to put on a perfect smile so that you'd never know I'm on the point of crying.

Mood: Rather down, though that didn't prompt this


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