I Cannot Tell a Lie / Lies / Story of a Poem
What’s that old saying, “Truth is often buried in lies”.
I have always struggled with telling a lie. As a kid, if I told a lie I would burst within an hour to go tell the person the truth.
Here is a funny example. When I was a teenager I had bladder issues. If I jumped in any way I would pee on myself. I got invited to a friend’s house and she had a trampoline. I knew I was in trouble but I jumped anyway. But after we jumped around a bit and I headed home I went straight to our garage. I grabbed a cup of water and poured it on the floor and sat in it. All so I could tell my mom when she asked why my pants were wet “I had sat in water”. It wasn’t a lie to me at this point. I had created my own version of the truth.
If I did lie and tried to get away with it, the lie would feel like it was crushing me. I couldn’t sleep and I could barely eat. I would feel heavy and ugly inside. I decided as a teenager I never wanted to feel this way again. I would do whatever it took not to lie or to manipulate a situation into my own version of the truth. This was just as unhealthy as telling the lie but I didn’t learn this until later on in life.
I was seventeen when I wrote a lot of my poetry. I spent a lot of my time alone in my room. So I had a lot of time to think. One day I was thinking about how I wished it was easy for me to lie. Why couldn’t I just be like everyone else? Why did lying have to haunt me so much? I couldn’t just be a casual lier. It would have made life so much easier if I could. Or at least, so I thought.
Then I started thinking about how even though I couldn’t lie to others the one thing I was good at was lying to myself.
It was after one of these episodes that I wrote “Lies’. I had this very vivid visual of how it is true that truth can be buried in lies.