Liar

“I think it’s finally time I told you the truth about why I’m… so… me. My parents got divorced and my dad was super crazy and annoying about me succeeding, but my mom… she could care less. My dad hit me if I wasn’t good enough, and then my mom… she would drink or use drugs and ignore me instead of looking at my flaws. So, yeah, I guess that’s kinda why I’m a pathological liar.”

“Uhuh yeah. Can you grab me a paper towel? I just spilled some water.”

“Sure,” I mumbled as I handed him a paper towel. My therapist said that I need to open up and be more vulnerable, and I figured Chase was a pretty safe bet, considering we are roommates. He’s seen me at plenty of my lows, by no choice of my own or his, and somehow we wound up being friends. He’s basically everything I’m not. He’s athletic, popular, smart, hot, and he actually has a stable mental health. Unlike me. “Um… what do you think about my family?”

He sighed. “Look, I want to believe you, but I really don’t. I’ve met your parents and they’re so sweet and they get along so well. And I know you can’t help it. I’m really not judging, it just… I dunno.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He’s not wrong about me always lying about things. And he’s not wrong about my parents getting along well, in public. But I actually told the truth. It wasn’t a fake story, it was real. I didn’t know how much I expected him to believe me, but it still hurts. I’ve always hated opening up to people, and this was no exception. At the end of the day, people only believe what they want to, and there’s nothing anyone can do to change it. So, I started saying things people wanted to hear. I lied about my grades, my social life, basically everything. But then the lying started to seep out, infecting so many other things too. 

When I met Chase, I literally told him my name was Riley. It’s not. And then I told him I wanted to major in English, which was also a lie. Once he finally figured it out, he was confused so I had to explain the whole liar thing to him, which was not fun. 

Sometimes it kinda sucks knowing what is wrong with you. I know the people who know the truth about me don’t believe me as much as strangers. It’s like I’m another person when I start to lie, someone who’s not as messed up or just… overall bad as me. Someone who went through exactly what I went through, and came out stronger instead of a better liar. 

It’s not like every lie I say is justified. It just happens, with the lies flowing out of me like when you can’t stop crying no matter how hard you try, and if you try to stop it, it comes back stronger in a moment. 

My therapist says it’s only a symptom of a problem, but it feels some much worse than a so-called symptom. It feels like it is the problem, but I’m still scared to lose it. What if I can never lie again? I know that it should be a good thing, yet it seems so dangerous. What if no one even cares about me anymore if I start being honest? 

If I'm being honest, I’m a disaster. Obviously. Aside from that, I’m a college student that has wound up in a mental hospital too many times, most of them pretty justified. I have plenty of scars from both myself and others, but I always say it was a lion if anyone asked, and say some dramatic tale about how a lion attacked me. I’m majoring in art, which will probably screw me over later in life, but I’m pretty screwed up anyway, so I’m already practically doomed. Might as well have fun before my life completely falls apart. Yay!

Most people say I’m a good artist, but I know that just because someone isn’t a pathological liar doesn’t mean they can’t lie. It’s really easy to tell when people are lying. It’s so easy to see the little changes in the way they talk and act that most others don’t pick up on. There might as well be a giant arrow pointing to each liar so I don’t miss them. 

Chase doesn’t lie to me though. He’s always honest, with nearly everyone. After all, how could his gorgeous brown eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, belong to a liar. I have heard him lie once, to protect me. His friend asked him what was wrong with me, and he just said that I was his friend. I don’t remember what else he said, but it was some lie to justify all my crumby actions. Of course he had to lie about me, the biggest mistake in the whole universe. 

I have a strange love/hate relationship with lying. On one hand, it keeps me safe, but on the other hand, once people know the truth, they never believe me again. I’ve put myself in far too many situations where things have snowballed out of control, and I’m so grateful that Chase was there to snap me out of it. I really wish I was more like Chase because he’s just so… Chase. What more can I even say? He’s practically an angel with how stunning he is. If it wasn’t for my tendency to hide everything, my face would probably always be bright red around him, so I guess it’s good I’m a pathological liar. On the other hand, he barely trusts me. I can trust him, but there’s really no way I can make myself trustworthy to him with all the lies surrounding me constantly. Even if I wasn’t a liar, I wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“Chase?”

“What’s up?”

“How do I be honest? You’re always so honest and I dunno. It’s annoying always lying unintentionally.”

He stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about how to answer, occasionally opening his mouth like he was about to say something, only to close it and to shake his head. “I appreciate you asking me but… this is probably more of a question for your therapist.” I sighed and started to turn around when he added, “I know what I do is… I try to correct myself when I lie. Ya’know? If I lie to someone, I try to tell them later and apologize. Your therapist could probably give you a better answer.” He let out a chuckle that was both small and awkward. 

“Okay. Um. Well. You know that thing I said earlier?” I asked. The first time I truly let someone in, without being more or less forced to let someone in. 

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Sorry for lying about that.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay.”