Truth Behind the Lies

We need to talk he said.
I stared back to my laptop idly reading random things. I knew what was coming. I knew that talk was coming. I was hinted when he, my step-father texted minutes ago. But I just let him to come into my room. He sat on the other bed staring at the other side of the wall. I was silent waiting for him to speak and to receive that glaring question that I never wanted to hear. And then he finally spoke, “Are you okay? Are you depressed? Is there something wrong with you? Are you sick?”



I let the questions coming at me. I smirked half laughing from what I heard but remained in calm and serious seconds after. I shook my head from all that he was asking earlier. “I’m okay,” I lied as I look at the other side of the wall. Then my eyes darted back at my step-father’s eyes as to hear what questions he will ask of me.

I was chill and didn’t make any unnecessary movements or block my thoughts from listening to him; he was calm and his voice was normal with utmost concern; far from the wailing that my mother ought to make or the prying questions embedding and shocking my senses a month prior that with that kind of slap of words, I would automatically shut my mind out of it. I would listen but I will let it out with the other ear, not even caring one bit

Its not always like this, scratch that it used to be not like this, but I couldn’t really tell well or maybe it was just less worse growing up. I wasn’t a normal kid, I was young at heart who grew up with a lot of invisible thorns at my back. What changed me was I was very good at hiding things and maybe selective amnesia has somewhat made me the way I am today. A lot has happened, from the forcing of wearing skirts and sandals every Sunday, from learning about first love, dilemmas and confusion about gender normalcy, first taste of freedom in college leaving me with a failing minor subject, till I was forced to change course of my parents choice. I was told what to do and I simply followed I was good at doing it for I have to be the good girl in the family, being the only girl that never really acted like one.

I graduated, then failed my license exams twice not knowing what to do with my life next. I recuperated to writing and joining a forum and met people along the way. I kept on blogging and writing poems online. I took another exam and passed. But finding work didn’t come early on, it took many years, right before I witnessed my Aunt’s suicide alone in the house and then just as luck may have it, I was offered a work on my lap afterwards. I was thankful for the job but I took it for granted in the last remaining months of my contract. I met good friends. And that same friend I met again a year after, although we constantly texted. She was the only person I can talk through the phone and call anytime. I hated long conversations. I hate phone calls because I’m not good in speaking what I have to say. But I don’t know how she does it, but talking to her was so easy.

That friend and I, we worked together abroad and was much closer than usual, we became best friends, best friends with benefits. We have done almost everything. We saved alot of our hard earned money, traveled and eat as much as we wanted. We made the best out of the corners we’ve stumbled upon. Of course, we planned many things, she was the only person I was able to talk to apart from the few close friends I have. She made it easy for me to be me. She made me overcome my traumas and bad habits. And I was too grateful to have her in my life that I wanted to share more than many things and to do other things apart from the pressures of work that we had.

We decided to do something we like. To bake, to travel, to eat and to have the time of freedom for ourselves. Her parents was happy enough with the plan, and well my parents it was completely the opposite. I got some backlash and what made it worse is, my clueless best friend was the target of my moms dispute. I told my mom one day of my plan, I wanted to borrow her car so I can buy equipments that we needed. My mom was shocked and didn’t listened. My mom wanted something else. And knowing my mom, she would force whatever she wanted at me. I never wanted that. In my head, I wanted what I want to do this time. This time I wanted to do what I’ve chosen to do.

And that moment, I depended on my best friend. I’ve cling on to her for assurance and support that I never received. My parents knew that I write but they hardly understand what I do. I’ve let my friends read my written works. My best friend loved them and with that she became a fan.

A lot of things happened after that. I was skeptic to work alone. My hands trembled more than it usually does. I had several mistakes during that time and for certain years that I got dependent on someone (my bff), I had to unlearn it this time and tried to stand up to myself. I was lost for a moment there but I kept it to myself. I was dying inside but I haven’t realized it yet.

A month ago, as my mother kept on talking at me, and slowly getting emotional; I listen and gave my two cents, but I was still distant. My head is shutting down in some of the words she’s trying to say. Till I heard it straight from her mouth, how she necessary and purposely did those things to me to spite me. She withdraw her support and was cold just because she wanted me to suck it up. She glaringly wanted me at the brink of my mistake. At that moment, I silently hated her more, “She wanted me to fail!” I said to myself. And what I really hated the most is how she treated my best friend and how she made me feel guilty for not letting me do what she wanted that led me agree years back.

I hated it so much that I snuck into my room and kept everything to myself. I rarely talk to her. I never left my room unless needed to.

I’m okay, I told my step father this. I lied because I don’t want him to suffer. So we talked about other things. The talk was spontaneous and comfortable the way I like it. No raising of voice or tensed inquiries. Just talking and sharing of ideas. Before he left, he gave me options and numerous advises, I simply nod and looked at him in the eye.

I cried for a little wondering how the hell did I wind up like this. How the hell I’ve come across to this mess. And its possible I may be depressed, scared and crazy as hell right now. But as hate emanates, I cannot muster to hate my parents. I would keep it inside just like the rest because as much as I love them, they're still my parents afterall.

All my life I lived with the lies. I’ve kept it very well from everyone and I was good at it. Hiding secrets and encapsulating every bad things in my life. I’ve moved on from it. They linger from time to time, no one knew but me. You would never see it in my eyes but behind it there’s a dark passage you will never see. Lies, lies, lies. But the truth doesn’t matter anymore, right?

Disclaimer: Searching for an anti-virus to remedy the culprit malware.