The Liar

I have always lied about myself, since my earliest memories. Not to hurt people but to make myself interesting and different. I moved to a new school at 8 years old and decided to be Swiss. I spoke with an accent for months, learned everything I could about Switzerland. The dreaded parent teacher conference put the kibosh on it. I think that was the first time my parents realized how "strange" I am. That was 3 decades ago.

I have been lying and fabricating ever since to the point I cannot have friends or relationships. I am completely alone now, and I don't mind. I do still want love- but..........

It should be a horrific and terrible feeling to be utterly alone, yet I'm ok with it. I can't/won't get in another relationship with my lying. Always a disaster waiting to happen. Plus I do have empathy for those I twisted into my lies. It is not about scamming or hurting. It's about having no real identity- so I make it up.

If I could cry about it without doing drugs or drinking, I would. But without choosing to be a bad person I just am one. At 42 I can look at it rationally, and also see all that I've lost. So I've been a hermit in the city for the past 5? 6? years.

I used to think about killing other abstract people and/or myself- but it was pure sugar rush in the brain. Haven't had those thoughts in many years.


inkoumori inkoumori
41-45, M
Dec 11, 2012