It was the close call that made reality clear. I remember the way they looked at you, like you were the gum stuck to the bottom of there eighty-dollar shoes. I could only imagine what they said to you, words the worse weapon, and you defending something very far away from real. Each word a puncture to your heart, adding more doubt to the back of your mind. You didn't know, and still don't know. Though I plan to keep it that way, sometimes I feel like I should tell you the truth so you will stop waiting for someone who doesn't exist. So you will stop wondering what's so wrong with you that he had to leave.


After the close call, I knew I had to stop. I wasn't sure if I was planning to keep it going forever or what but the whole thing had gone too far a long time ago. It was my attempt to be closer to you, since you didn't want to be closer to me, and my attempt to make you happy since I by myself never could. It was wrong, but once started, I couldn't stop...


I can't really call anyone a liar after all that I did, but I still try to push the blame onto something else. I even try to blame it on you sometimes to make myself better. But it's my fault, all my fault; you never forced me to lie. I want to believe I don't lie about it anymore, but it always comes up again and again; and I have no other choice but to make excuses for my run away person and change the subject. Well, I have another choice: telling you. I have to admit though, I am far too selfish to ever accept being hated by you. That's why you will never know.


So I continue to push it away, adding more small lies to my huge ball of lies and I continue to hope it will all disappear. What can I say? Once a liar, always a liar.