Six Word Memoirs on Life Stories

Backstory

I'm not someone that loves to tell the truth. Not because I get a kick out of lying to people, or because I don't want to get in trouble, but because the truth usually takes a while to explain. Telling the truth is like telling a long story, and frankly, I'm almost always too lazy to tell the whole truth. So I tell white lies.

For example, "Yeah Mom, I went to my friend's house," and then we went to the movies and hung out at the mall and I know you don't like it when my friends drive me places because you think they'll crash and kill your only daughter, but really, relax. Or more commonly, "I have allergies," which is true, but that's not really why I'm crying; I'm crying because I failed my chemistry test and everyone else, including you, got an A and that just proves I'm stupid even though I'm trying so hard to learn these stupid equations I'm not even going to need in my life. Or even, "I'm just tired," of you talking smack about so-and-so, I think she's a nice person.

Yeah. I just don't like telling people the whole truth, and maybe that's my way of protecting myself and keeping people from knowing what I'm really thinking about. Maybe it's not because I'm too lazy to tell the whole truth, but because I'm too afraid to. I never really realized it until now that I lie all the time. My lies don't hurt people, but I know they hurt me. I have found that I lie to my mother constantly, and she doesn't know half the things that go on in my life- which is my fault. I learned my friends don't understand me, because I don't let them. I learned that I seek approval from people I don't even like, by pretending I agree with what they believe.

My lies reflect my truth, and my truth is that I want my mother to be a part of my life, I want people to understand me, and I want to stand up for my own beliefs, not conform to others. Now I look at every white lie I tell and I discover the meaning behind them. And day by day, I learn more about myself and what I want in my life.