Lies.

I lie all the time you know, all the time and every day. But I'm curious. Why do we lie?
What is it that possesses us to tell only half truths or even to elaborate on the original story so as it seems more legitimate and less silly in our eyes. Everyone knows that these slight embellishments aren't real, so why do we continue with them until the very end?


Maybe we really are afraid of what other people think of us, maybe we're embarrassed to be ourselves. It could be compulsive or emotive or even, in some queer way, admissive. 


But I think it might be not everyone we fear. It's just one or two people who's opinions actually matter. The perception that, if we disappoint them, we might just fall apart.