You're welcome to submit your own lie. Tell me the lie, tell me the turth, and tell my a little bit about the lie. Why you told it. What you were thinking as you told it, if you were caught.
I'm not often caught, myself. I've been at it too long.
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Lie #3
Lie: “I was working in the roses this weekend.”
Truth: Of course I was fucking cutting myself. Since when have I been interested in gardening? I do love roses. But not the ones we have at my house. I like the old fashioned roses. You know, the blood red ones with the perfect spiral. Not the bullshit carnation thing we have in our garden.
So why did I tell this lie? I have no idea. I was cutting myself for attention. Sure, I liked the pain, and I like to bleed, but on my arms, close to my wrist but never close enough or deep enough to do any damage? I wanted someone to notice. I wanted someone to call bullshit on my lies. To care enough to hound me about it. Who noticed? The nurse one day because I went in for a peppermint. And of course she doesn’t know me well enough to catch me in a lie.
And I never did get caught. That, I think, was part of what made my depression worsen enough to become barely noticeable. Not enough for people to notice. Just my dad. Did my brother notice? I don’t know. I’ll ask him one day. My sister didn’t notice. My mom was too wrapped up in her own problems to notice mine. I don’t blame her for that.
It frustrated me, this lie. I hated the fact that I was such a good actor, people didn’t suspect anything. I started to wonder if I could make them ask more. So I added a little suspicion into my acting. Hesitation whenever I answered. Immediately pulling down my sleeves to cover my arms. From the looks I started getting, I could tell the started to suspect something was wrong. But did any of them care enough to confront me?
The answer to that is what pushed me over the edge.
