October 24, 2015
Lie to me. Tell me things we both know aren’t true. Tell me I’m beautiful, that you love me, that there’s no one else out there for you. I only want to hear your lies, never any truths. Fuel my ego, I crave the boost in my self-esteem. I yearn for that false sense of confidence. It’s as if the lies are a necessity in my survival. I despise the truth. Such a sad and ugly brutality. The lies protect my heart and my mind. Does that make me delusional? Does it make me crazy? I just don’t think I’m strong enough to face the truth. My teacher says all the time “The truth hurts and lies heal”. It’s true, ironically. I’m too fragile to handle the truth. That scares me. I want to be invincible and capable of handling anything, but I’m not. I’m not indestructible, I’m human. I have feelings, I get hurt, I mess up. Maybe that’s why I need the lies. I’m in desperate need of a fantasy, the imaginative things I create in my mind, and the dreams I dream at night. Perhaps I need them to get through life. That’s why I like lies and being lied to. It took me a while to realize that.