sjsprWriting

If I could, I would tell you the truth about all the things I've lied for. I'd tell you about that time I called my ex after a night out with you. I'd tell you of how I begged him to come pick me up, drunken, with words uncontrollably spilling out of my mouth. I'd tell you of how relieved he made me feel, how I actually felt like home around him, how you never made me feel that way.

I'd tell you the truth. Unpleasant words reaching your ears, breaking your little heart. But reality is really not as nice as you think it is and I'm actually not as beautiful as you think I am.

I would tell you the entire truth. About everything. But I can't.

I can't because the lies are far prettier than the truths. They're dressed in love and adorned with sweet intentions. Meanwhile, the truths are spoiled by temptation and perverted by corruption. The lies delight you with their shimmering beauty and their soothing phonetic. The truths would ruin you; they's completely destroy your ability to trust anybody. They'd fill you with shame and malice and force you to do wicked things.

The lies would merely make you smile while you think about how great your life is. Think of how lovely it is to finally have me. But all of this is a lie and that is the truth. You're just better off not knowing it.