I started lying again. Just when I thought that telling the truth had become as innate as my loud laugh or my tendency to talk to much when I get nervous, I fell of the wagon.
Hi my name is Liar, and I’m a liar.
Do you have a “number”? Not your “lucky number” but your “go-to number” when you tell a quantified story? Some people don’t. They will say “a lot” or refer to quantification in more abstract terns. Well, I have a number and it fits my personality to a T. A size 50 billion T.
Did you catch that?
For example I might say something like this:
“Oh my gosh you should of seen it! There was like 50 billion people there, I swear!”
50 billion is my number. Not 10 or 200 but 50b’s.
Either there wasn’t a soul who stood up to clap or 50 billion people stood as one and cheered.
That’s what I mean when I say my number explains my personality.
It’s all or nothing to me.
So today when I was talking to my neighbor and that little bastard, that sick and perverted LIE came out of my mouth I knew I was in trouble. I don’t know why after 7 years of only speaking the truth AND ONLY speaking it with integrity, it all went down the shit hole.
IT’S NOT GOOD.
I’m impulsive and… well… a big mess.
But at least I have one down and
forty-nine billion nine hundred ninety-nine million nine hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine
Left to go.