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So I’m 18, and my room is clean. Well, it’s damn close anyway. I’m going to finish cleaning it today. I’m cleaning it because I want my brain to get organized, I want to feel powerful and spiffy and like I’m the queen of the universe. And I did feel that way, right up until a conversation with my best friend reminded me that I’m not.

I have a confession to make.

I am a chronic liar.

Never about really important stuff. I lie to make myself look better, more interesting, cooler than I am. And I’m damn good at it. People don’t catch wise very easily. Sometimes I lie to avoid distressing people needlessly. I lie because I figure that I’ll make the lie true soon enough anyway, so what’s the point in worrying them with the current truth? It’s not that big of a problem. It’s not that bad.

Mostly I lie to myself. I tell myself I’ll make the lies true, that it’s not that bad to lie to people when I’m going to make it true, that I need to keep using this lie because telling some people lies and others truth about the same thing will make the lies weaker, will make people realize that I’m lying and that I’m a huge fraud.

I used to be much better at lying, bullshitting, debating. I used to just take joy in beating people with my words. I really don’t now. I’m glad when I’m right, but I don’t like demolishing other people’s opinions the way I used to. It makes me feel guilty. It makes me feel like a complete asshole. And so do lying and bullshitting. It makes me feel disgusting to keep lying, especially to people who love and trust me and never lie to me in return.

But I’m too cowardly to stop. Because at the end of the day, what I’m really lying about is my own cool, my own patheticness. I am pathetic, and all the lies are pathetic lies designed to keep you from realizing it. My cynicism about myself is really a laziness. I am too lazy to live up to my potential, too lazy to build my life around truths, to go out and experience things to make myself better. I lie to myself so much that the lies I tell all the time almost become the truth in my mind. I suppose part of this is the art of lying well. The only way to tell a good lie is to know what you’re saying is true. You make yourself believe it, if only for the duration of the lie, and you seem credible to other people.

In the end though, I know what is true and what is not. And I know there is not much left of me once you strip away the lies. That I’m actually quite boring.

And I also know that I can continue to get away with my lies for a damn long time. That maybe someday, they will catch up with me, but that I am good enough and other people trust me enough for me to continue lying for many more years, if not decades.

But will I still have any truth left when that day comes?

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2 Comments

  1. you will have truth, but when you are comfortable in your skin, until then it’s a lot of lalalala.. after that, truth is all that matters.

  2. Mom, I’m pregnant.

    Just kidding!


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