Lies.

Lies.

The ones we tell ourselves to keep going. Little white ones. Deep dark malevolent ones. Those things we can’t bear to be true. So often we lie just to cope. Defense mechanism.

I did not kill him.

Just another fabrication to get through the night. These ominous moments filled with a determined silence; and distant din of the city coming to life. Dawn will be here soon.

He’ll start breathing again.

I stole $5 from the piggy bank when I was a kid. My mom caught me trying to hide the broken pieces of the shattered pig under the front porch. I lied and told her I dropped the bank accidentally. Through my crocodile tears I sobbed how I was afraid she’d be mad, so I was going to use the money to replace it. A WHOPPER! But she bought it. So begin my life of deceit.

I did not hit him with the car and back over the body five times.

Small truths we keep to ourselves. The real honest things are what we're most scared to share. It’s the little pieces of genuine humanity that make us most vulnerable we don’t share. But the lies roll off the tongue; spill out the mouth like sweet gems of music being released for the first time.

I did not shoot him with a rifle.

Unprovoked deceit. Cold manipulative and calculated deception. “I was married once”, it’s what I tell them, the men. It’s my line you could say. They all eat it up. I explain that he beat me, raped me, etc. Sympathy for the liar. Smile a little. Put on a fake. Show them your false innocence. Devil in a blue dress. But it gets them each and every time… HOOK, LINE, SINKER.

I did not drive his unconscious body to the middle of nowhere in the dark hours of the morning.

You could say it was a bit like fishing. THE BAIT: Makeup, Tight Dress, Cleavage, Stilettos. And that was just for kicks. The first time it happened I wasn’t even trying… You see, I was lonely that night and being in, was far too unbearable. So I went out for a drink. Came up with a good story, and the rest was something I wasn’t prepared for.

I did not ask him to leave with me.

No one ever tells you that lying can lead to good things do they? See the first time it happened, was a bit of luck for me. A man offered to buy my drink. I was bored, lonely and didn’t see any harm in company so I accepted. We traded our fake stories. He hid his wedding band. Lovely line on his left hand was the give away. See most men don’t realize just how big an imprint that band leaves around your finger. Yes, I could see the line where his ring rested. And of course he was married. That was his lie.

I did not slip drugs into his drink.

Liars are we all. Everyone is a liar. Big ones, little ones. Mom’s to children, bosses to employees, government to the population for control. That’s all it is. Control. Like trained animals that jump through hoops for a false prize promised to them. For us, there is no promised land. Even lying to ourselves in the end. Heaven and Hell.

I did not offer to buy his drink.

He was married, I knew it. I went along for the ride anyhow. After two drinks we stop. He says “let’s get outta here”. I agree. Before he makes it to the car he falls down. Drunk. Lucky me. I ask him what he’s driving and attempt to help him up. He is spinning and incoherent. I take his keys and try to find it using the alarm. It’s a ‘68 Chevy P.U. Cherry red. Nothing more than that I could tell you about it. Not a gear head, but I do appreciate a pretty picture. I managed to drag this idiot over to it. As I’m shoving this drunk into the cab out of his pocket drops a bottle of pills. Date Rape BS. I get upset. He’s passed out. That was supposed to be me. So I shove his body over, fire up the truck and peel out.

I did not smile and sit down next to him at the bar.

Lying to myself always was the easy part of life. It was harder to swallow someone else’s story. That bastard tried to drug me. Idiot! Wasn’t he in for a treat? I drove out to some unmarked dirt road. Threw him out and was about to leave him when… the gears slipped! And just like that, the truck backed over him. THUMP! THUMP! “Oh God”! I instantly throw it in gear and go forward with out thinking. THUMP! THUMP! “Shit”! I get out and assess the damage.

I did not go to the bar last night.

He’s not breathing and his head resembles a smashed cabbage. Brains are falling out. I would panic, but everyone in that bar is a liar and not one of those people could honestly say they really knew who he was. No one would notice or bother to say a thing when the authorities came looking. No one would talk… unless these other cheaters wanted to admit these infidelities to their spouses waiting patiently by the phone at home.

I did not kill anyone.

Simple truths we continue to share with ourselves. The lies – complicated deception – we save for the eager audience that awaits us out in the world.

I am not a liar.




Alright here it is. Another story. Although it's isn't the one I wanted to go first. It was written during the headache, about 6/7 days into the headache. It is the first that wasn't inspired by anything in particular. Actually it sprang out of me trying to lie to myself. Forcing myself to believe 'nothing was wrong.' hope it is appreciated. m.