Musings on Life from a Dead Girl

Liar

I am a liar.

Every word that drips from my treacherous tongue is a lie.

A beautifully painted façade to hide the shit underneath.

I hate that it comes so naturally to me.

That I can lie so easily and well.

I hate myself and I hate this about myself 

I am a liar.

It's how I've survived.

See, in my house they never wanted you to answer truthfully.

They wanted to hear what they wanted to hear.

Anything different and well...

It's really no surprise I ended up this way.

I can spin lies without even thinking about it.

Maybe that's why I'm such a good storyteller.

I've had practice.

I grew up around this game.

A game where the rules changed on a whim and where the correct answer one day would be wrong the next.

I can lie.

Whenever anything could possibly go amiss, I already have my exit strategy.

I already have an excuse.

A way out.

One thing about it, liars never lose.

Liars always survive.