Growing Out

Something I hope I never understand is lying. Like, my biggest fear is that it is possible to build such an elaborate and complete lie that a person can just live inside of it indefinitely.

My perception of the world will crumble if there exists a lie-caterpillar. It's a hideous, bulbous, many-legged monstrosity that waddles along, just moments from collapsing in a nauseated heap. But if you try to talk to it, it's like, "Yeah! I'm doing great! I've got everything figured out and...and...and yeah! I'm gonna grow wings and fly. They'll be beautiful, elegant wings that sparkle in the sunshine as I dance in the wind. I'll be slim and regal and spend my days living and eating in the flowers of wondrous gardens!"

And all the while they're just surrounding themselves with this thick, mucous like substance that keeps spewing out of their mouths and completely blinding them from the realities of the outside world. They're slowly severing all bonds with truth as they construct this cocoon of delusion.

And when they're finally so completely sealed off you think, "Well, at least I won't have to put up with all that crap anymore--"

ONE WEEK LATER--BOOM! METAMORPHOSIS!!

You wake up one day and he's out on your front lawn, stretching his wings in the morning sun. "Yeah, looks like today was my lucky day! I'd love to hang around and chat but me and about a million of my new buddies are all going to Mexico for the winter. We gotta hit up the mating season! See ya, bro!"

Pictured: A HUGE JERK!

And he leaves you and your friends and you guys all go back to...building tunnels underground that you can huddle together in when the ground freezes over--staving off frostbite by the heat of your own farts.

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I've told, as best I can remember, one deliberate, outright lie in my life. Everyone does that partially obscure the truth thing or leaving out stuff thing but I can recall one social situation where I just completely lied.


It was in eighth grade. My friends were talking about the Weird Al movie, UHF. And they'd asked me if I'd seen it. And I was so determined to prove that I was a true fan of Weird Al that I lied and said that I had seen it.

AND THAT STILL EATS AT ME TODAY! I just can't believe I bothered to say something so stupid and blatantly false. It really does eat at you. But maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm a dung beetle, pushing his pile of crap along and trying to collect it as he finds it. I can't change who I am or what I've got. That'd be like pushing around a giant inflatable pile of poopy. Yeah, it looks impressive but is there any real satisfaction in carrying around a hollow impression of something?

But maybe lies don't eat at other people. Maybe there are lie-caterpillars.

I don't think there are...