He screamed at me, ‘liaarr!!’ At that moment I couldn’t muster enough energy to correct him and defend myself once again. I was utterly exhausted and yet mind numbingly in love with him.
Dear Readers, let me start off by calling myself a liar, a pathological liar. It was one of those sticky summer nights we spoke for the first time ; during the first few minutes of the conversation, it was apparent that he was older than me, fearing he would back off knowing my age, I lied. I lied about my age.
The second time was during the first few weeks. In my young mind, I was an inexperienced school girl who had to come up with daring stories to hold his interests. Little did I know these series of concocted stories would be forming a wholly different perception of me in his adult mind.
The third time was at the start of our separation. He was devastated by my decision after all the attachment was too strong to forget. I was driven by my will to give both of us a chance to be happy. I was too young to understand that relationships needed work and it wasn’t supposed to be glamorous always. So I decided to lied. I lied about having another in my life ; giving him the impression that he was completely forgotten. Hoping, he would realise what an absolute waste of time I was and finally move on. While I was burning inside with grief.
The fourth was during our separation. He was having the time of his life ; visiting exotic places with sunny smiles and expressions so joyous that you’d automatically smile looking at the photographs. I decided to continue with my lie. Because I am petty. I wanted to show him I, too can get over you as you did. I have another in my life.
We are living together now. But he doesn’t trust me. Because I am a liar. I am drowning.
Impressions lasts a lifetime, readers. And like the English moralist, Joseph Hall has said “A reputation once broken may possibly be repaired, but the world will always keep their eyes on the spot where the crack was.”
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