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I’m a Compulsive Liar

Ever since I can remember I have lied. Lied about little things. Lied About big things. But everyone always takes me seriously. There is not one eprson I know who thinks I lie about anything. Despite the truth, I apparently come off as a very honest person. It just goes to show how self-ritious people are. “Oh, she’s a good girl. She don’t ever look like she could do nothin wrong.” Like they know.

Of course, I’m not on here confessing that I’m a girl-gone-wild who is as slick as a wet bar of soap. I just would like to say that I have a gift. An incredible gift packaged with some big responsibility. I don’t lie when it matters.  However, I lie constantly, ignoring the rule I just stated. When I was little, a girl on the playground walked up to me with her pink frilly dress and long golden hair that, at that time, I envied. She looked me in the eye and said “Hi, my favorite color is magenta. What’s yours?” Immediantly the little dials and cranks in my brain whirred and with the most believable voice I could muster I said, “Really? Manenta? Me too!” I didn’t do it on purpose, there was just something about this little girl’s eyes that made me want to lie to her. To need to lie to her.

It’s always the eyes of a person that drives that dangerous automatic pilot in my subconscious.

And it continued from there. My web that shakespear told of thickened and thickened until it seemed inpossible that I would be able to keep up with the stories. But I’m great mutli-tasker. And if I don’t remember a specific lie, then I pretend I didn’t hear someone when they are talking to me. They will procede to tell me and excerpt of their version of my story. By then I will have gained enough information to piece it back together. That’s how I work.

Over the short course of my life I have told some rediculous lies. That I decended from the vikings. That I have a glass eye. That I can talk to arachnids. That I started my period when I was nine… All acting on impulse. Something inside me pulling on the strings of my creative mind and forcing a random story out of my throat. But everyone takes me seriously.

Being able to lie perfectly, has gained me insight to how badly other people lie.

Me: “Do you like that guy? I know you like him.”

Friend: *pause for a second* “No?” *quick, subtle cough*

Me: “Right. Of course.”

Friend: *guffaw* “No. I don’t”

Me: “But you do.”

Friend *pupils shrink. body doesn’t move. Gives me death look* “Okay, maybe…”

I’m really good at getting people to admit they’re lying as well. But that only comes from experience.