I could never trust a word that came out of your mouth. You would lie about the stupidest things, the smallest things.
Some of your lies were meant to protect yourself. To keep me at a distance. To make sure I never learned too much about the real you because you were terrified of opening yourself up. They were your defense mechanism, a way for you to make sure you had more power so that I could never blindside you and break your heart.
You lied about your childhood. You lied about your exes. You lied about how you felt about me. Nothing you said added up. Your stories always had holes drilled into them.
Then there was another kind of lie. The kind that was meant to impress me, to make me like you more, but it had the opposite effect.
Your lies made it impossible for me to trust you. You lied about little things that didn’t even make a difference to me, so there was no way I could trust you when it came to the bigger things. I saw firsthand how you were able to look me directly in the eyes and lie to me — and that is a dangerous thing. That is a red flag. That is a sign you are not worth a second of my time.
I played along when you told me stories because I didn’t want to call you on your bullshit and risk getting you upset, but whenever you spoke there was always doubt in the back of my mind, warning me that you were probably bending the truth at least a little.
Your lies made it impossible for us to form a real relationship. You never let me see your authentic self. You were always putting on a show. You were always trying to be somebody else, even though I liked the real you.
The main reason the lies bothered me was because I was so upfront and honest with you. I told you how I felt about you. I explained the problems I was having at home. I mentioned my awkward, embarrassing stories. I showed you little pieces of myself that I was afraid to expose, but I went through with it because I cared about you that much.
I’m trying my best not to blame you for the pain you put me through. I tell myself the lies were due to your lack of confidence, to your fear that no one would want the real you. But it still hurts. It still feels like I was betrayed by you.
Your lies make me wonder whether you ever had real feelings for me or whether you were only pretending. I’m worried that you were playing a game with me the entire time to keep yourself from becoming bored.
I hope that’s not the case. I hope that, even if you lied about everything else you ever told me, that at least your feelings were real. Because I know mine were.