But here is my secret: I am a liar too. Or I was, for much of my life. I remember the moment when I realized that I had a hand in what type of reality another would live by. That I could carve out my own secret nook beneath others’ expectations and exist in that delicious, sovereign space.
Those who love you tell you that they’ll be by your side no matter what, that you will never have to face anything alone, that they’ll take a bullet for you but then you find yourself standing alone, at gunpoint, wondering where everyone went.
Emotionally abusive people shower you with attention one day, and then withhold it the next. They make you feel really special, and then act like you mean nothing to them.
You don’t know what you want, and you claim it’s due to this dire need to make everyone else happy. To make sure everyone else is okay and content. But it’s not that at all, because in the middle of the night when she sleeps next to you and you’re texting me…you’re only thinking of yourself.
Giving too much information. Sometimes liars overcompensate for their lies by providing too much information or explanations on the subject to make people think that what they’re saying is actually true.
Then, one day, when I was really at my lowest, I asked myself why am I trying to be thankful for this kind of pain? Why am I thanking “the universe” for this opportunity to “grow”? Is this how I really feel or is it just how I think I’m supposed to feel.
At, work, for whatever reason, when I first started I told a girl that I was married…I was never married…It got so out of hand that I actually bought a fake wedding ring….The whole hospital thinks I’m a husband…
You hold our gaze for way longer than normal. Because you’re desperate to prove that you’re not one hell of a liar.
You’ve lied then accidentally told the truth plenty of times before.
It’s human nature, but the nature of lying isn’t the same for everyone.