If the person who’s telling a lie believes they’re telling the truth, is it still a lie?
We weeded the strawberry patch together - you thanked me for inviting you. We felt the spring sunshine on our backs and laughed.
Drunk, you kissed my face and told me you loved me. You said they could never split us apart.
You put your head in my lap while I read to you. You said that I took good care of you.
You said you don’t feel safe around me.
You grabbed my arms in the park and shook me. You said that you were surprised I was corporeal.
I picked up your medication for you. You picked up my medication for me. We picked up our medication together.
After almost a year, I still don’t understand. How do I know which of these things are true? I move the puzzle pieces around to try to make a picture - it’s doesn’t come clear and it makes my face itch.
I think I have a pattern of taking people in. I know I have a pattern of taking people in. I see people who need something, and I try to give or be that thing.
One of my most brutal bullies was someone I befriended and invited in because she always sat alone at lunch in the 6th grade, years of misery came from that one decision.
You needed someone, you needed help. I let you in, I became that thing, that someone for you. You leaned on me, I invited you.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to body joke to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.