I’m a liar.

I lie. I lie all the time. I’m a big, fat liar. 

I lie when I tell people I miss them. 
I lie when I tell people I’m looking forward to seeing them. 
I lie when I tell people I’m OK. 
I lie when I tell people I’m happy for them. 

I lie because I think that’s what people want to hear. 
I lie because I think people are lying to me. 

People tell me they care about me, but I find it so hard to believe that I’m worth anyone’s time. 

I try to push people away, while simultaneously lying to keep them around.

I’m scared of being hurt by other people, so I hurt myself instead. 

I don’t lie to hurt anyone. If I wanted to hurt people I would know exactly the words to say – which is the worst power a person can have over another. Much worse than physical pain. 

If I lie to you, it means I need you to stick around. It’s like I’m double bluffing myself. I can’t feel the feelings, but maybe they’re masked by pain. 

This isn’t anyone’s fault except mine – I lie to myself as well.

I need help, but I’m too scared to get any. 

I’m scared of people reading this, because it’s the most honest thing I think I’ve said for a long time. 

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