The lie spilled from my lips like inky black poison.
It coated the then present in a shroud of fog that obscured the truth, until even I could barely recognise it.
It now hangs in the silence of my bedroom; heavy as lead, and as intangible as air. Although, perhaps that is untrue. If I want to trace the words that formed my sin I could easily look back at old messages. I could retrace my steps as they lead me back to a time where my misery and desires ruled me, if only because I allowed them to.
My serpentine self, twisted the lie so intricately into the minds and hearts of my friends that upon hearing the truth they sagged with relief instead of disgust. Well, mostly.
My words mocked those who had, or were, surviving the harsh acts of abuse that I blatantly called my truths. Little did I know, that at the time I was also mocking my future self. Of course each letter spoken was pronounced with a twinge of guilt, if not an avalanche of icy despise. But I wanted my friends to view me as brave, due to my feeling so weak. And, the lie had not been intentional, it had been uttered at a time of panicked uncertainty of how to react or what to say next. But I could have stopped there, I didn't have to weave the lie into my heart and soul, past, present and future. Yet I did.
This the story of a girl who spoke with a silver tongue because her head and heart was a swirling mass of dull greys. This is the story of her downfall, her awakening, her karma and her determination to learn from all she once was; to never make the same cruel, heartless mistakes.
This is my story, and for that, and to the people I have hurt along the way - and the ones who's stories I mocked by creating my own - I am truly, truly sorry.