I Believe In Lies

I BELIEVE IN LIES

Natalie

I believe in lies. The kind I tell myself when I look up from the abyss and see no light. I lie to myself and pretend the light is there. I create some absurd excuse as to why I can’t see the light, but it’s there, because I say so. I believe in the lies that give me strength to move on - the kind of lies that keep me from burying myself alive.During my freshman year in high school, my friend Leslie died. Just like that - fine one day gone the next. Her face was pale, lips a dark purple, but she was still normal, pretty and friendly too. I always knew she was sick but never expected her to disappear on us, not like this, at least not so soon. I didn’t go to Leslie’s funeral. I wasn’t ready for it - we were just fourteen. This is when I started lying to myself. I told myself this was just a bump in the road; every teen loses a friend at one point or another. Just a bump in the road.

            Next came Angelo - shot right on my street. I was seventeen by then. I didn’t know him very well, but we spoke a few times at parties and other social gatherings. He was a goofy kid. I knew who shot him, and I knew why, but the only witness who could speak out chose not to. She remained silent because the shooter was also the father of her child. Angelo was just the new guy in her life. I respected her decision, and have been lying to myself ever since. I pretended to be unaware of what had happened, but always wished I really didn’t know.

            Then it was Pamela who dies a month before graduation. Pam was a beautiful person, inside and out. She was the proverbial “ride-or-die” chick, up for whatever, whenever. She went into a seizure one day and was hospitalized. The first day turned to several days, then to two months in the hospital. We all knew why this was occurring - drug abuse. Of course, I claim not to know the cause of her death, all of us did. But we knew, and none of us ever tried to prevent her death. I know I should have tried harder. I should have never given up on her, but I did. Now she’s dead, and I’m alive lying to the world with this guilt upon my shoulders.

Finally, it was Kevin - he was my everything. We had been there for each other since we were seven years old. He was raised by his “granny” because his mother died shortly after he was born. His father was a hypocrite who didn’t even bother showing up to his son’s funeral.

Kevin always wanted to be the best father he could be. His girlfriend was seven months pregnant when he died. I drive past the tree he crashed into everyday since it’s just a 30 second drive from the block I live on. I drive past his house every week, hoping that he’s going to jump out from behind a bush and say, “I got you!” But it hasn’t happened yet, but I’m waiting for him to come back. I lie to myself every night before going to sleep. I stare at his picture and tell myself he’s not gone for long, that he’s going to raise his daughter Mia and watch his kids grow up, just as we had planned.

For years people have been telling me that it’s going to be all right. That God makes these choices for a reason and that He will never give me more than I can handle. But I know it’s a lie. It’s the type of lies people tell when they have nothing good to say.

            I lie to myself every morning. I tell myself everything will get better - that tomorrow will be a better day. I very well know tomorrow is not promised, but I pretend it is. I believe in lies, not all lies, of course - I choose the lies I want to believe. It’s a power we all possess but not all know how to use, yet I believe I’ve mastered it. I am so used to having people lie to me when they realize the series of unfortunate events that my life revolves around. I love it when they lie, the reaction they have when they see me cry, the way everyone tells me it will be all right when they don’t even know what was wrong in the first place. They can’t stand to see me cry, so they assume the role of fortune teller and tell me that everything will get better soon.

          What a lie. It’s been over four years since my life turned upside down and it’s been floating there since. What liars, they know the truth, but they lie because the truth is so horrible. There is no golden rule that states that our lives are precious, that the bad is only temporary and that the good will someday come. That’s only an illusion. A potential for a lie. What nonsense we come up with, but I would rather believe it. As Ralph Emerson once said, “Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies.” I believe in lies because if I didn’t, my life would be miserable and meaningless. Thank God for lies.