Compromises of my soul, handing myself over bit by bit to those I must assuage with my lies.
I never wanted it to be this way. As a girl I dreampted of an honest world, a world which now seems far away and impossible. Lies, like ugly little greamlins who cling to your back, have become a necessity. To spare hurt to others I add another sniviling creature to my load. They snicker and laugh at me.
"Good never comes of evil!" They sneer. They speak the truth, honestly, cutting me with words sharper than serrated teeth or claws.
"Lies. Liar. Deceiver. Fake." They accuse me.
But am I wrong?
To want to save those I love from the truth, to lie to myself and pretend to love who I do not love, to offer a sanctuary for those drenched in torrential rains of reality... am I wrong?
A storyteller always, I never imagined the power stories have and not just for those who listen and hear, but for the one that does the telling. A story will bind you to it, like a little gremlin, at one time dark and fascinating, now only a burden to be born with patience. Out of necessity.
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