Made Up Stories (Part 2/2)

If you haven't read part 1, this wouldn't make sense to you so...

http://the-morphine.blogspot.sg/2014/11/made-up-stories-part-12.html

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I started realising that it was a problem only when I had a little more friends during my secondary 3 & 4 years. My social circle was bigger and there were more and more lies. I was very careful to not let my different social circles meet each other because they would have a warped perception of each other through my stories.

By sec 3, my bubble of lies was already burst more times than I would like to admit... but that didn't stop me, what made me not want to lie anymore was the freedom in telling the truth.

Now, I know this is starting to sound like some morals essay but seriously though...Sometimes I would become very close to a friend to a point where she would introduce me to her other friends and I always felt slightly weird because I would never be able to do that. I am a different person within different cliques... mix two group of friends together and I would act as if I had split personality. On top of that, my friends didn't know me for who I am... They know me for who I try to be.

And it shouldn't be that way.

So I started to change... I didn't take back all my lies, so it's still up to you to figure out which one is a lie. But I did started telling stories truthfully. And the people that cared listened. No one left or stopped being friends with me just because I lived an average life.

It was nice to know that I could just be myself and still be loved. 

Made Up Stories (Part 1/2).

Being alone wasn't easy. It didn't come naturally even though I was pretty much left out for most of my early years. I yearned to fit in because it felt awkward sitting alone during lunch in a crowded canteen. It felt painful to always be the last person without group mate(s) during activities. It felt like nobody (parents included) paid much attention to me. Parents do not ask "How are you doing?" instead they ask "How are your grades?" And the teasing... Don't even get me started.

I used to create stories in my head. Scenarios. Things that didn't actually happen but I wished they did just so I could have a cool story to tell. Just so someone would find me interesting (and maybe attention worthy) for once.

This happened so often it became a habit.

At school, something would happen... maybe a classmate of mine shouted at the teacher. Now that's a story to tell. But what if that doesn't produce a reaction with the 'audience'? I am gonna say that my classmate shouted at the teacher and gave the teacher a punch! Hah. I might also give a ridiculous background story of my classmate. That will make my story interesting. After all, the people who I am going to tell my story to aren't in anyway related to my classmates so there would be no one to expose my lie.

It started with parents, then tutors, then friends and close friends.

This escalated pretty badly. The stories were interesting and I managed to capture the attention I wanted. However, I felt uncomfortable telling things as they were. I couldn't. I was afraid if I don't spice something up no one would listen. It came to a point where I couldn't even be honest with my counsellor and the things that happened during my counselling sessions.

I didn't see it as a problem back then. I felt that I could very well keep track of the lies I have told, as long as the group of people that I lied to do not meet up with the group of people that I lied about I would be fine.

Lest they be forgotten.

Everyone has voices in their heads. 

Or at least I am admitting that I do.

I feel that it's reason why I jump from one thought to another as if there were tiny creatures in my head snatching for the remote control to my channel of thought. The thoughts do not go deeper than surface level if I do not focus on them and soon they would just fade into the back of my mind. 

But of course, I am larger than the creatures in my head. I hold the main controller to my thoughts. I am able to stay on a channel that I like and dig a little deeper into it - talk to a friend about it or just debate with myself. But there is only so much my working memory can hold and process. 

This is why I write. 

I write to focus.

I write to explore.

I write to remember,

Lest they be forgotten. 

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P/S: This is my first post in a very long time. Consider this post a new beginning for my blog.