Little Miss Liar

I won’t say I’m a compulsive liar, because I’m not. However, I do tell a fair amount of lies, in particular:

  • “Di ako umiyak.” When I wake up with swollen, itchy eyes.
  • “Di ako gutom.” When I’m trying to save money by not buying food, and my friends are all eating. Best said with a casual eyeroll to indicate level of indifferent not-hungriness.
  • “Nag-aral na po ako.” When exams are approaching and my mom asks if I’m studying in my room, but in reality, I’m rereading Pugad Baboy instead of lecture notes.
But there are serious stuff that I lie about, even to my closest friends.
When I get hurt or am seriously down, I put on my best John Bender BAMF who-gives-a-fuck attitude, not letting anyone on to the fact that I am screaming with misery inside.

Pride, I guess, leads me to do this. My ginormous pride keeps me from letting others know that I get hurt, because I want to project the image of a tough chick. Never let ’em see you sweat is one of my life credos (the other being Eat now, regret later). It’s completely ironic, because I tell my friends that there is no shame in crying, that it’s okay to be hurt every once in a while.
It’s highly disconcerting for me to have a friend who can see right through my badass façade. How do you fool someone who knows you that well?
When would I have to guts to show people, that I get hurt, cry, and am vulnerable?

Ela is a twentysomething who is constantly getting stuck in self-destructive behavior and bouts of low self-esteem. She struggles with depression and writes to relieve herself of her feelings. Sometimes she even blogs about other things like makeup and positivity. One of her pieces was published in the Inquirer Young Blood in October 2017. She likes cats, dogs, and sometimes even people.

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