I’d done so well, structured my life, begun to take steps towards… wherever I was going. That all stopped in four sweet days, or three maybe. In reality it was just a moment. That was all it took to fall.
It’s easy to lie. I’m told lies are useful and they are, except for me, they just get me into trouble… but only with myself and that’s the worst thing.
It’s the escalation.
It’s when I lie.
It’s who I lie to, for… with.
It usually starts the same way, with an innocent untruth. It always finishes the same way, with an unravelling Orwellian tale where I will not fare well. Right now I’m in the middle, building my plot, trying not to hurt anybody.
Right on time, the black dog has arrived, imminent depression, wonderful to see you again. Drugs have played a part, fortunately for me I’ve never gone into the Trainspotting zone. Alcholol is enough to fuel me.
It’s been two days since I told a lie now but my mind hasn’t cleared as of yet. I’ve failed to write, to achieve… to be what I promised I would.
The first day I get back on track, the first day I am able to stop the type cast… Lie Junkie… I’ll get my first day chip.