I hate lies. I despise them. They are like Lay's potato chips, you can't have just one. You tell one, and then you have to tell another to protect the first, and it just spirals out of control, until you're drowning in them. Occasionally, the little white lie can help more than hurt, but that's not a very common occurrence. In my opinion, it's very rare.
Even more than lies, I hate being lied to. I'm pretty intuitive, and I can usually tell when people are lying to me. And I just get angry as evidence of the lies stack up, and shine a spotlight on them. It's infuriating. And what's more, it feels like the lie is eating away at me. Then I start wondering why it bothers me. I still don't understand it. I'm not the one hiding the truth, so why am I the one twisted up inside?
I'm a big girl. I can handle the truth. I can be trusted with it. And in the end, everyone will feel better when the lies stop.
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