I Lied

The more time I spend worrying that people know too much about me, the more I come to realize that nobody knows everything about me. And that makes me very happy. Because while a few people know far more than I like anyone to know about me, they're still missing pieces. I do it on purpose. Nobody needs to know that much, so I just fix that problem very simply: I lie.

Maybe I'm a pathological liar. It wouldn't surprise me in the least. When I'm confronted with something I'm ashamed of, afraid of, or otherwise don't want to face, I just lie. It may have no consequence for me in the long run, it may not lead to anything, but I still lie. The way most people know me is an elaborate framework of white lies that I have subconsciously told for a reason I cannot begin to fathom.

All of those bits and pieces, those little white lies, the times I keep the silence when I could correct the misconception...why? Put me in a corner, and I lie. Any sort of pressure, and the truth cowers behind the wall of my lies.

Do you remember when I said I was okay?

I lied.

But you already knew that. And when I said I didn't know?

I lied.

You knew that, too. But what about when I said I didn't care?

I lied.

You may have suspected that one, but you sure as hell didn't know it. There are so many things I said. And so many of them were lies. Certainly, not all of them. If everything I'd said had been a lie, I wouldn't be writing this post right now, I wouldn't be thinking the thoughts I am, I wouldn't worry about people knowing so much about me.

But what is it that I'm most afraid of? Is it getting hurt by people knowing what I was thinking or is it hurting people with the contents of my mind? That's one thing I haven't lied about, though...it's both, and I'm not sure if it's one more so than the other or not, but either way, that's one thing I've said that remains the truth.

And that's one of the few things I may have been honest about. Because when asked why I do or don't do something, the answer rarely matches up with the reality. So when you asked me this or that, or what you've asked before...remember that answer I gave you? Well here's a hint:

I lied.

I may have convoluted my entire self to procure lies out of thin air, to veil myself and hide the truth. It doesn't mean that it's not there anymore, it doesn't mean that I won't admit to it. But somehow, you have to learn that anything I say can't just be taken at face value...if only because I have yet to find a situation worth risking the truth for.