She has been an expert liar ever since she was a child, and many people around her, whom have been lied to, already knew that about her and tried to confront her to her bad habits. But, she refused. Of course she was deeply ashamed, and she knew that was wrong. She lied because she wanted attention. She lied because she had no friends. And by lying, “friends” started to come her way.When she was a child, she moved a lot. Which meant, changing schools and not having stable friends, and missing out when there were memorable events that everyone spoke about no matter how many years passed. Although she had a stable number of friends for the second up to the fourth grade, when she moved into a new school and entered the fifth grade, she passed her time at school being quite at class and sitting alone during recess.

One thing that made her cope with not having friends was playing dolls all day. She loved making stories. Making perfect lives of girls whom lived in a beautiful town, surrounded with a loving family and many, many friends. She was an expect at making up stories.

One day, she thought to herself, “maybe if I make up stories about my life, and make it interesting, maybe I’ll have friends”. So she started her experiment, and she was right, suddenly more girls wanted to know more about her.

She made up stories about the house she lived in, about the things she owned and about her family. Until one point, she grabbed a fashion catalog from home and took it to school, spreading it on the cafeteria table, surrounded by my “friends”. “Look” I said flipping the catalog “those are my sisters!” one of the girls laughed “No they’re not!” she said. “They are! See this is Sara, this is Fatima, and this is Maryam” and the names went on and on. To the point she made up stories about them.

Until the day she fell into the hole she dug herself. On the parent’s meeting day, she went with her mother, and there, she saw her. That same girl came up to her and said, “Hey! How is your sisters doing!” she turned her face to look at her mother, “Oh hello Auntie, I just came to ask her about her sisters, the older ones”. Her face became hot. She felt it glowing bright red. She did not speak. Her mother held her hand and walked to the car. She expected her mother to speak to her, on how horrible she is. On lying. But she did not. The car drive was so quiet, she felt like it might killer. “I’m sorry” she muttered. But her mother did not say anything. She was giving her the silent treatment. Maybe to reflect on her mistake, or to feel ashamed for what she did.

That was the last time she lied. The last time she had friends for the longest time.


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