I only know how to lie.
It’s how I learned to survive.
“Yes dad, I know where my sister went.”
“Yes mom, I saw my sister at home earlier.”
“No sister, I didn’t tell dad where you were.”
“I don’t know what set dad off today, mom.”
“The cat scratched me. He hates me.”
My entire childhood,
Lies paraded from me.
Some necessary, some out of habit.
Each falsehood rotted me so,
But it was so easy to smooth the tension
At my own expense.
Later, post home shattering,
My lies persisted.
They clung to me, a nasty aura.
The lies stayed in my nose,
Clouded my eyes,
Strangled my heart.
I knew it was wrong, knew my lies were no longer a matter of survival.
But I couldn’t stop.
“Yeah, I’m good. Just tired.”
“I tripped. You know how clumsy I am!”
“I don’t get it. Why?”
“I ate today. Check my lunch records.”
“I haven’t cut lately. See?”
With each lie I told,
A part of me was forsaken.
I couldn’t trust those around me,
I felt strangely separated from others,
As if I was standing within a transparent cage
And they lived their lives on the outside.
I don’t know why I felt so isolated from others.
I think it’s the liar’s aura.
It’s frustrating, trying to reach out
And seeming to phase right through them.
People always gush over connections,
But I don’t know how to touch,
Much less connect.
People say they feel close to me,
And I smile,
Reciprocate the sentiment.
I feel nothing.
Just the same lonely isolation.
It’s as if I’m within an observation tank,
Simultaneously the specimen and scientist.
Am I broken?
Did I deny myself the ability to bond
In an effort to protect myself growing up?
Every time I think I know what it’s like to connect,
There’s a disconnect.
I think about my friends leaving me,
And there’s nothing.
I think about the ones I love dying,
And how it would affect me.
Aside from initial sadness and fear,
Is it shock and disbelief,
Or is it something worse?
I wander through life,
An empty ghost of who I want to be.
Solid enough for people to see,
But in all reality
Feelings are tough, communicating even harder.