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.