Growing up, I prided myself in knowing that I had the ability to tell good lies. I was given the gift of a wild imagination, so conjuring up a story to back up whatever shenanigans I got myself into was never a problem. I just mustered up enough courage, kept my cool, put on my acting face, and went for it without batting an eyelash. I could just see it - God tallying up my fibs, shaking his head in disappointment. I was remorseless. But as with every bad deed in life, my lies eventually caught up to me. It wasn't too long until I got tired of having to cover up old lies with new ones, and my imagination was starting to lose steam. Lying had ruined me from the inside.
It took me a couple years to grow out of that habit, and now, I'm proud to say that I find it easier to tell the truth than lie. The only problem I have these days is other people lying to me. As a self-confessed pro-fibber, I have an eye for liars. I cannot only see it in their eyes, but I can sense it --- when something's fishy, it seeps through my veins. I absolutely hate being lied to (and I mean, who doesn't?) but the fact of the matter is, it's bound to happen. To me, to you, to everyone. It just sucks when the one lying to you is the one you least expect to hide things from you.
Tip of the day: lying ruins relationships, even when you're not trying to.
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