Confessions of an Addled Mind;

I am incredibly tired for no reason lately, so I apologize in advance for any and all errors I will commit from here on out.

I am a liar. Not little white lies, though maybe that is how we all start? It started with slight exaggerations of real life events, after all, what is a good story without spice and flair? In recent years I have come to understand that most of the memories I have are probably invented. Well, not so much invented but rather 'enhanced.'

My logic is that my life is boring, and truly, it is. So, if I deign to open my mouth and recount various tales of my own personage, than I had better make it worth my audience's while. Clearly, my people pleasing ways are to blame. I often have to ask myself and disassociate the falsehoods from the truth more often than not, but I will never allow myself to tell another.

If I told you a story that seems absolutely unbelievable, it might be true. If I told a story completely believable, it may not be true. You see, I'm kind of muddled in the web my silver tongue has spun myself. I am unsure what parts of my history are true, and which are invention. It doesn't help that this penchant for exaggeration runs deep in my family, and so the lesser lies of my immediate family permeate my own world. A whole worldview, a whole history, a whole life, built on little lies upon little lies. Though, I am sure, I am not alone here.

Lying is as automatic as breathing for people, no? I once pushed my younger brother down the stairs out of spite. He ended up in the hospital. My mother was verbally and emotionally abusive, though I never found the distinction between the two. After the birth and death of my younger brother, she changed her tune, after she had expended all her visceral remarks and etched them upon me. She needed to cope, and really, only me and my father were around to weather the abuse. So, I was a mite bit jealous, I suppose. Also, still angry at him for being a replacement.

My older brother once took my sister's homework and lit it on fire. Not really her homework, her valedictory speech for high school. He lit it on fire and tossed it around, eventually extinguishing the flame when it was blackened thoroughly and about to crumble. He then held it up to her face, crushed it, and sprinkled it over her head. Tears welled in her eyes. Then, tears welled in his eyes when she took the full force of her body and channeled it from her fist to his face. I sat, watching, from the kitchen table, desperately waiting when one of them was going to make me dinner. Later, I would learn my parents had left to go to an abortion clinic for my mother. I had always wondered why they were both absent that night.

I have an Uncle, who I shall not name, who was once chased down by an airplane. Apparently, speed limit was indeed enforced by aircraft. He acquiesced to his fate, but after ending up in patrol car, tried to break free as soon as the plane was gone. He was apparently so belligerent that the officer ended up hitting him in the face with his billy club and knocking out some teeth. That's his story of "how I lost these here teeth." He's now in prison, for an unrelated offense. I mean, he went to prison for assaulting an officer, got out, mucked around in Renaissance Faires as those were his passion, then developed a cocaine habit. Push came to shove when he was living with his brother (my other Uncle) and my Aunt (the one who actually is related by blood; though she had married both of the brothers at different points in her life), for he, the first Uncle, brought home a copious amount of strippers and the final straw was dirty coked-lined panties found in the master bedroom.

I ask you: Which of these do you think is true? All of them? None of them? I wish I could answer you definitively, but I can only give you my best guesses.

Where do I go from here? I don't know. My life has not really suffered, I think, being built on these sorts of things. I think everyone's life is, honestly, I just feel like its one of those epiphanies I'm having. I always prided myself on my silver tongue, and had aspirations to be a politician or actor because of its grace. Alas, we all know how that ended! But really, just because I fancy myself a good liar does not mean I am a good liar, nor does it mean I would be suited for either of the two careers I listed.

"Jusqu'ici tout va bien"