After years and years, I have finally come to the depressing conclusion that I am a liar by default. It’s how I was made and I will probably never be able to live without this part of me. I don’t know, I have no professional training in psychology or whatever, but I think it’s some kind of defense mechanism that makes me feel comfortable and safe.
When it comes to addiction, everybody always talks about drugs and alcohol. Sometimes people might mention food or social media. But nobody ever says anything about the addicting allure of telling lies. Or maybe it’s just a cop out — it’s a fast and easy escape.
I used to lie a lot as a teenager, and it was always about tiny little things, really. But after a while, the lies started getting bigger, and the web started growing wider. There were moments when I had to take a few minutes and regroup so that I wouldn’t get caught up in all the lies.
The habit transitioned well into my early adult years and affected my life in ways I could have never predicted. Not only did it become a habit, it became the norm for my daily life. Lies used to slip off my tongue faster than I could even properly think about what I was saying. The thing that hurt deeply was that I lied to the people that I loved and cared most about in this world. It chewed me up inside, and it was the silent monster that kept me up at night. I knew that I was disappointing the people that would literally do anything to make me happy, one lie after the other.
Somehow — I really cannot explain how — after years filled of lies, I came out on the other side. For the first time in maybe 10 years, I actually have nothing to hide anymore. I don’t have to actively think about everything I said to a person before talking to them again. And the funniest thing is that nobody ever found out about anything, because by the grace of God or whatever evil genius is running things, it all worked out in my favor. So much so that I never had to come clean about anything.
For the first time in 10 years, the burden that I myself put on my shoulders is gone. The truly sad part is that I still don’t know why I inflicted so much pain and sorrow on myself. It starts very innocently, you know. You tell one little lie, then another, then another two, and then another five, and by the end you don’t even know which side of the string you are on anymore.
I am not sure if I will ever come clean. What’s the point in opening up old wounds, anyway? Maybe it would give me peace at last, but it would hurt the people that I’ve already horribly mistreated. For now, it is just the shadow of a monster that used to exist. And, sadly, that shadow will never leave my side. Sadly, it will continue to follow me and remind of the darkness that lies within me, the pure evil that I am capable of.