For some reason, regardless of the relationship, everyone has always known everything about me. I don't go around volunteering all my stories, but I also don't lie when asked. Never have.
I've always struggled with liars. Not even the big lies. The obvious ones. The ones where you're standing there watching someone construct a fiction in real time about something you both know the truth about. And when you call it out with receipts, they don't stop. They build another floor on the house.
I don't understand it. The truth always comes out. Always.
I also don't deal with guilt well. If I littered and walked away, I'd go back and get it. Not because someone might see. Because I'd be up at 2am thinking about how lazy that was.
Those are two different things. Fear of consequences versus disappointment in myself. I've always run on the second one.
I'm not saying I'm better. I also love Seinfeld, refuse to listen to the Beatles, and can't be in the same room as a mushroom. We're all wired how we're wired.
But I genuinely wonder sometimes. How do people function painting themselves into corner after corner? Each lie needs maintenance. Supporting lies. A whole infrastructure.
That sounds exhausting.
No ghosts in my closet. Not because I'm scared of haunted houses, but because I never wanted to live in one.
❤️
Jake