I wove so many lies so perfectly that I began to live within the lies. People believed them so completely that my lies became reality. I thought I’d built the perfect web. And in the end, I finally realized I’d become the greatest lie of all. My life was joyless. No one knew me.
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So I vowed never to lie again. Even if the truth led to my death. I am not perfect. I occasionally reflexively lie when confronted with a mistake or a bad situation. Then I catch itself. I ask if I want to go back to the abyss of nothing. And I correct the lie.
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People ask if my stories about my life are true. They question me on things which sound fantastic or deranged. There are no lies left in me. I root them out vindictively, with genuine malice against my own spiritual frailty. I was once a liar. Now I would rather die.
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This known as a living hell and necessitates change.
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My family has a set of lies we are not allowed to contradict. We all know they are lies. Once I left home and could speak them aloud it was an incredible feeling to be truthful. Now I have a habit of oversharing.
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Speak the truth until your tongue turns numb.
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Very true.
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