A Personal Story

Before I get to the lying part of this post, I'm going to tell you some things about me. For a start, I love music, and I sing almost constantly. Music is pretty much my life. I'm also struggling with depression, mainly because my mother's expectations are basically tearing me apart. I obsess over things a little bit (right now it's The Boondock Saints). I get bored of things really quickly. I get angry all the time because of little things, especially when I'm talking to my mother. I love my Daddy.

Now to get to the point.

I am a compulsive liar. If you've met me, I've lied to you. It might have been a little lie or a massive web of lies. Maybe I told you I have a best friend who's father owns a restaurant, or perhaps I told you about the death of a friend, or a drug addiction. My lies are usually based on the daydreams I have all the time, in which I can control what happens to me and who I am.

I try to physically or emotionally distance myself from people to try and stop myself lying to them. My lying makes me feel trapped, because I know that if people find out they will not believe any real problems I tell them about. As a result of my lying, I find it hard to trust anything other people say, because I know just how easy it is for someone to lie. I have also become paranoid, thinking that I am that friend everyone hates, and worrying that no one believes anything I say, even the truths. I believe my lying has contributed to my depression, which has in turn led to my constantly thinking about suicide. I hate myself for lying, because it hurts the people I love and makes trusting me very difficult.