To tell you about it I never quite handled the truth. I often managed to misshape it so that it would become more appealing to me and everyone around me. I knew just how to become an expert victim waiting for the exact moment when crossing that thin line between manipulation and self pity was acceptable. The funny thing is that I never really felt like lying, inside me the way I felt about everything was the only thing that was real, even if from time to time I came to my senses trying to convince myself that all the drama was just as useless as it was hurtful. I was aware the day would come when my whole act would collapse and I would no longer be the attention needing girl I felt like in my heart and in my head.
But when that day did come I’d find a way to pull it off. I had practiced my whole life on being everything but expendable. And by the time someone dared blamed me they would be in too deep to be able to want to live without me anymore. But if this was true then my reasons would no longer be acceptable to myself. They would become cheap ordinary lies. And I was no liar...