I lie. Not a lot but

I lie. Not a lot but when I do it’s big. I’ve done it since I can first remember. I do it to get sympathy or make me feel important. I live a normal every day life, but it’s really getting to me. I think I’m just afraid of being boring and average. I lied about my stepfather touching me (he is deceased) I lied about having a bullet graze me. I lied about being in ballet. I’ve lied about how much money my family had growing up. I know it’s wrong and I’m so aware I do it. Even when I try to be mindful of what I am saying the same lies spill out. They aren’t even new lies….that’s an epiphany as I write this. They aren’t even new lies…..

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