Lying is the most fun.
I’m not even sure about my feelings, neither of the words that come out of my mind.
I made an appointment with a psychiatrist, but I am afraid all that I’ll tell her just be a narrative.
I have plans of being completely honest, then again, sometimes I can’t help but lie or invent.
Or I’ll have many things in mind that I won’t be able to concentrate on one single topic.
I know I’ll sing like a mockingbird, the problem relies on how focused I am or how honest I want to be.
It always depends on the day, where I’ll vent my deepest or darkest secret or I’ll play the innocent card.
How the trauma I’ve lived turned me into this person, able to disguise and fit on whatever you want to hear.
I guess you could say that’s a talent, some people can’t reinvent themselves even if their life depended on it.
But is not a quality, because when you are alone, you don’t know exactly who you are, if your memories are real or make-belief.
I can select a story of my childhood and twist it to the point I even believe that’s what happened.
I don’t know if it is something everyone does, tell a different anecdote, but not for the thrill of it, just because you can.
They say you can’t change your past, but with every stranger I’ve met, I had to make sure to create a web of lies.
Be careful enough so I don’t get caught. It’s not like I enjoy lying, I just do it, naturally, and I think that’s gravest.
I just know I plan to be honest If I want to get better.
