what makes one a pathological liar? is it that something happens in ones lifetime that made one realize that life wouldnt be right without making up a tiny white lie to embellish the truth or make it seemingly right? we used to hate this one girlfriend of one of our good friend because she was seemingly pathologically lying about certain issues regarding their relationship .. we were convinced that she made those stories up to thumb him down under her evil, tiny little fingers so he wouldnt go sniffling around some other girl.. the whole concept of pathologically lying just seemed so wrong to serve such a normal purpose - survival of the fittest ... you say what you can to keep certain things and if you say it often with enough conviction, even you believe it.
now, i am not trying to say that i am a pathological liar, but i cant deny in saying that i have developed a rather alarming habit of thinking up stories to amend to certain situations when the reality doesnt seem fitting. it isnt a story that is too far from the truth - it just has embellishments to make it more attractive or more believable than a simple explanation. these days, i find myself making up stories to solve situations rather than fess up and acknowledge that they cant be solved that simply. it doesnt even have to be problems. sometimes, i just come up with answers or explanations or stories that seems more fitting and i dont even blink an eye to do it. it just comes out naturally. and sometimes, i forget what is reality and what is make believe. and i think it has come to a point where i need to stop this really bad habit forming story making before it hurts me.
sometimes, these lies come to make ME feel better, and since truthfully, i feel better when other people acknowledge the fact that made me feel better, i have to cascade the knowledge down to the people around me. i dont do it all the time, but it wont really be reality if its made up and if i was the only one who knew about it. after all, it would be pretty pointless to make it up in the first place. but see, the making up of these stories are quite effortless. its pretty damn scary.
what is it about this lifetime that makes me want to hide behind such an intricate embroidered carpet of lies? what is it about this reality that makes me want to surround myself with a wall, a buffer zone of comfort?
sometimes, i cant believe i am here. sometimes, i wonder if this was the path that was meant for me. sometimes, i want to escape and live another parallel life in another dimension. sometimes, i just wish that THIS lifetime wasnt so complicated.
now, i am not trying to say that i am a pathological liar, but i cant deny in saying that i have developed a rather alarming habit of thinking up stories to amend to certain situations when the reality doesnt seem fitting. it isnt a story that is too far from the truth - it just has embellishments to make it more attractive or more believable than a simple explanation. these days, i find myself making up stories to solve situations rather than fess up and acknowledge that they cant be solved that simply. it doesnt even have to be problems. sometimes, i just come up with answers or explanations or stories that seems more fitting and i dont even blink an eye to do it. it just comes out naturally. and sometimes, i forget what is reality and what is make believe. and i think it has come to a point where i need to stop this really bad habit forming story making before it hurts me.
sometimes, these lies come to make ME feel better, and since truthfully, i feel better when other people acknowledge the fact that made me feel better, i have to cascade the knowledge down to the people around me. i dont do it all the time, but it wont really be reality if its made up and if i was the only one who knew about it. after all, it would be pretty pointless to make it up in the first place. but see, the making up of these stories are quite effortless. its pretty damn scary.
what is it about this lifetime that makes me want to hide behind such an intricate embroidered carpet of lies? what is it about this reality that makes me want to surround myself with a wall, a buffer zone of comfort?
sometimes, i cant believe i am here. sometimes, i wonder if this was the path that was meant for me. sometimes, i want to escape and live another parallel life in another dimension. sometimes, i just wish that THIS lifetime wasnt so complicated.
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