r/Kenya • u/Successful-Animal603 • 3h ago
Casual I Am a Liar and Not Even the Fun Kind
Edit....This post is not a Lie
Let me call myself out real quick: I am a liar. Not the sneaky mastermind kind. Not even the lie-to-survive type. I lie about stupid things. Pointless things. Stuff no one asked for. Things that make people tilt their heads like, “You really could’ve just said nothing.”
And before anyone comes for me, yes, I used to hate liars. Passionately. Had a whole moral compass carved from a traumatic situationship with a pathological liar who’d swear the sky was green just to hear himself talk. That man lied like it was his job, and I hated him for it. So, when I got out, I was like, “Never again. Liars are trash. I’m better than that.”
Now? I’m the very thing I swore to destroy.
And not even for survival or protection, nope. I lie about what I had for lunch. I lie about where I am. I lie about liking a show I’ve never seen. Sometimes, I lie for absolutely no reason other than the words feel better coming out that way. And yes, I’m disgusted by myself too. It's like something possesses me. And it’s not even strategic. It’s not slick. It’s not smart. I lie just to lie. I’ll be halfway through a sentence and a little demon whisper, “Make it spicy,” and there I go.
In my head, I live multiple lives. I’m not even joking. I operate like four personalities at once. Full-on mental illness, right there. And you’ll find this hilarious or deeply concerning, but I’ve faked entire relationships. Yes, actual relationships. Named them. Gave them full backstories, personalities, even “fights” for realism. I’ve introduced these imaginary people to my real friends. I even have entire conversations with them on the green app using my other account. I’ve kept up those conversations and I have screenshots that i share with my friends saying... "Ona venye huyu anasema" All the while that HUYU is me. I know it's sad but i just can't stop.
The worst part? I need the scenarios in my head to play out in real life. So when I’m having a conversation with someone, and my brain already wrote the scene, I lie just to stick to the script. Because reality rarely lives up to the version I imagined, and that bothers me. Deeply.
I will lie to people who actually have access to me. People who could call me out in five seconds. I’ll lie about where I live, what I do for a living, where I am in life. With a straight face. You wouldn’t even know I’m lying unless you really start peeling back the layers. I’ve told people I’m married. Told them I have kids. Said I own a car. Said I have property. All lies. Then once people start getting closer and realizing my stories don’t match up, everything crumbles. Because I can’t keep up. My own web of lies trips me up.
My friendships don’t last. People catch on eventually, and when they do, they ghost me like I’m the problem, which, surprise, I am. What’s wild is that I do want to work on this. But I don’t know where it started. I’m not lying for gain. I’m not trying to manipulate people for money, attention, or clout. I just… lie. It’s almost like lying became my language. And now, telling the truth feels foreign, even scary.
I know someone’s gonna diagnose me in the comments, and you might be right. But before you go all Dr. Phil on me, I know I have a problem. Maybe someone out there understands what this is. Maybe you’ve been through it. Or maybe you’ll just laugh because it sounds absurd.
Either way, this is my confession: I am a liar, and no, it’s not cute. But it’s real.
Anyway. That’s me. The liar. Now go ahead and judge, I already beat you to it.
But hey, at least I’m self-aware. That counts for something, right?