As a speaker, a story teller, a liar, life got hard hiding every story I spun every lie I melded. Remembering each fact, each person I had told it to and if I hadn’t if they had heard the story already. Mostly the stories were to gain sympathy to stop people from looking to closely into my real life. No my life wasn’t that bad no beatings no horrible drug addict parents or dead family members. But I had to hide my real feelings or at least the reason I felt that way.
By the time I was six I could spin a story no one knew was a lie. By ten I was an actress no one knew my real life. It didn’t matter if I was your best friend or girlfriend you mostly thought my life was one sob story after another. I didn’t even know what was true anymore. Soon I lost myself I was convinced that the reason I was sad was because the reasons I told other people. Not because I couldn’t handle the simple problems of my own life.
A boy didn’t like me turned into my best friend in Dallas just got cancer then died. My parents were mad at me turned into my parents wouldn’t let me do anything and I had to be a straight A student to please them or else…. My older brother had a simple drug problem turned into Rehab needed life altering issues. And my best friend hating me turned into school issues everyone hated me and my parents called me fat.
No I couldn’t tell the truth anymore I couldn’t lead a life of truthfulness and life altering change. I let my secrets out to know one because I didn’t think they were good enough I didn’t think anyone would care about something so simple.