So I Keep Lying

*Trigger Warning* I don't want to say what the trigger is because that could be a trigger in and of itself, but there are a couple of things mentioned in here that might be hard for some people to read. Don't say I didn't warn you. And yes, everything I wrote came from my own experiences. As if anyone will ever read this.

Everything in life is a lie. When your mother tells you stop crossing your eyes because you'll get stuck like that, she's actually just embarrassed of you. When your sister says all her friends are leaving her, she really means she's been a little shit to everyone and they've had enough. When your friend tells you they're not upset, they actually are.

I tell lies all the time. It doesn't it affect me anymore, not like it used to. When I was little, the guilt of a single untruth weighed me down like stacks of books balanced on my shoulders, threatening to topple over. I would tremble from the anxiety of it every night for weeks, even if it was about something as small as a piece of caramel silently taken from the plastic bag in the pantry, No, it wasn't me mommy.

But time is like a sculptor. Its cracked hands shape you over time, careful and precise. A little sharper here, more smoothed out on the sides, thicker, harsher edges, more defined details and sometimes less than before. You have no control over it. You're the medium, the clock is what shapes your design.

Time smoothed out some of my edges, made them blur. Lies don't affect me anymore, I tell them every day.

What's the matter, Wood?

Nothing, I'm totally fine.

Wood, are you okay?

Yeah, what do you mean?

Are you sure nothing's going on?

Of course, I'm just overreacting.

I'm good at lying. Everyone believes in my facade. With each deception I refine my method, learn how to make the lie so believable it almost becomes reality. Almost.

My mother told me lies were very bad. I remember the first time I ever told one.

Mommy, guess what, I lost my Daisy Doll.

Oh no! When did you lose it?

Just kidding! Ha, I got you mommy!

She got very mad, I felt ashamed.

Don't tell lies, Wood, ever. Lies are really bad.

But I never stopped telling lies. Sometimes the truth is more painful and menacing than any story you can up with. Sometimes lies are the only way to survive.

One day in seventh grade, I was waiting in the hall for the teacher to open the classroom door. All of the sudden, I realized I had forgotten that I was a girl. For who knows how long, I had completely lost any inkling that I was supposed to be a girl. I thought it was the strangest realization, but deep down it was also a scary one.

So then I told a lie for four more years. I wasn't just lying to everyone else, I was lying to myself, and I did it well. For those four years I barely suspected anything. I knew there was something hiding in the black hole in my mind, but I kept my thoughts elsewhere. And look, it helped me survive this long.

Maybe I'm too good at lying. Maybe if I had given up on this one sooner, my life wouldn't be such a shitshow.

No, my life would still be a shitshow, because I'm not the only one who tells lies.

When I was in fourth grade, my friend's parents get divorced.

Will you and daddy ever get divorced, mommy?

No, me and your dad don't get divorces.

It may not have been a lie then, but what about in a few years?

We watched a movie and my parents made fun of the picturesque couple, kissing in the middle of a battle as if they could care less that their friend's fingers and legs were being blown off every other second. Another lie.

You guys never kiss.

My mother looked scared.

What are you talking about Wood? We kiss!

The next week my mother kissed my dad I front of me every time one of them left the house.

See? We kiss!

But it was all just another performance.

I was excited for my cousin to come to the middle school with me. I was even more thrilled when we found out she had a class with me.

Every morning we would exchange the niceties, like normal awkward kids.

How was your weekend?

Pretty Good.

How is school going so far?

Good.

Anything interesting going on?

Not really.

She was so cheerful and outgoing in class every day. It seemed like she was having a great time being a big kid.

It was only the middle of the year when I came to school and she wasn't there.

When the office called me down and told me something had happened, but they couldn't tell me what just yet because I was too distant a family member.

When I waited silently in the principal's office for an hour while she stared at me, contemplating.

When they finally told me my cousin had swallowed two bottles of pills last night. That she was at the hospital with her sisters right now.

Lies can be so convincing.

I've always had good grades. I've always been called the smart kid, even if I wasn't, really. Sure, I got A's, but I was a very skilled guesser. I was good a bullshitting my way through things.

I try my best in my classes. I focus on my schoolwork, I get stuff done. I get A's and B's and I don't complain. I just keep my head down and work. That's what everyone else sees.

No one ever noticed my quivering pencil in class, how I had to keep taking deep, steady breaths. They're probably just concentrating. They're working hard.

Lies.

No one ever noticed when I started crying in pottery class, when my clay refused to roll out smooth and flattened out on two sides like a square pencil. No one noticed how I pounded the pencils into doughy film on the table each time they misbehaved. How ragged my breathing got. They're a perfectionist. They're just frustrated.

Lies.

No one ever noticed how I cry myself to sleep sometimes. How I shudder and moan in my bed, on the floor of the bathroom stall, at my desk, in the grass before Cross Country Practice. How I pull my hood over my head somedays and put in my earbuds, ignore the rest of the world around me.

You alright, Wood?

Yeah. I'm just tired.

Oh, yeah, I'm really tired too. Excited for the meet tomorrow?

Everything is a lie.

Can we be sure that anything is real anymore? Or is it all just a performance. Are we real? Are life, the planet, the stars real? Or are they just pretending to exist. Playing tricks on us. Laughing at us, at our stupidity.

Ha! Look at those idiots, they all think this is real!

I can't tell if things are lies anymore.

My sister likes to act. She's not good at it, but sometimes she can fool me. I've noticed she acts best when she wants something from me.

Wood, come here, I have a story to tell you!

Sometimes she has stories to tell me. She usually just ignores me, so whenever she's nice I don't waste it.

We talk about her life and her friends, her problems and desires.

And then I'll try to share a part of myself with her. I feel like I don't have anyone that really knows me, maybe this is my chance.

I've actually been getting really into this story I started writing. I showed it to my friend and he said it was good. Do you want to read it, sis?

No, I'm good. I hate reading. Now get out of my room, I want to watch my show.

And that's when I know it's a lie.

I hate lies. I can't take it anymore, all of this. I'm on the edge of the cliff, ready to give up. Not literally, not death. I'm on the precipice of of my willpower. I'm not ready to jump off but someone hiding in my ear has been nagging me.

Just lean forward a bit more. Just let go. It's not a far drop, you could go down so easily. You won't even feel yourself hit the bottom.

No, I'm not suffering enough to let go. I can still hold on.

No, you can't. If you let go, everything will be easier. Everyone will know. You won't have to worry anymore.

But I will still worry.

No you won't. Not when you get to the bottom. Just go.

But I can't. Not right now. What would people think if I just gave up? I'd be weak. What if people thought I was suffering. No, I'm not suffering. I have it better than everyone else. Giving up would be an ungrateful thing to do, a selfish thing to do. What if I stole attention away from someone who needed it more? I can't do that.

So I keep lying.