i lied to my therapist.
i’m not really sure why.
i feel a comfort in her office
with her helplessly millennial decor
and cozy lighting.

even with a bright smile and warm greeting,
a welcoming conversation.
a look of concern flashed across her face as she asked me
i lied.

i’m sure she could tell.
it was nothing against her.
i felt shame.
an impulse in the place where truth makes the most sense.
i still lied.

i ponder the reality of my lies
small things.
big things.
things i tell myself.
if i can’t even tell myself the truth,
of course i would lie to others.
but i don’t want to.
i don’t like lying.

i wish honesty was my policy
but it still seems to be people pleasing to my core.
i’m frustrated
i’m hurt
yet i’ve done this to myself
how could i?