Dishonesty isn't my strong point.

I'm writing this here because I want to write something dishonest and my letters are not allowed to be dishonest purely on principle and maybe I like keeping promises sometimes.

But right now I want to tell a lie.

I want to lie and say I like the boy who thinks I like him more than I do. I want to lie and say I wish I could be the person he believes I am. But every time he reads something I write and tells me what it must mean, I have to bite my tongue to keep from yelling at him that he's got it all wrong. I have to lie to him and say "Yeah, maybe that's it" and smile and pretend that it's not making me want to rip my hair out. I have to lie and laugh and then I say something true to make up for the lies because I don't know what else to do, so I say "I love you". I don't like him, though. Maybe I do. Can you love someone while not liking them?

I don't know.

I want to tell a lie.

I want to say that I don't love him. That he isn't the cutest boy I've seen since my brother's friend, that he isn't the boy I think about constantly, that I don't die inside every time he smiles at me. I want to lie and say I didn't fall in love that night we had a sleepover and my arm didn't fit perfectly on top of his and his sleepy face didn't make my heart shudder from the weight of it. I want to lie and say I don't like him. I want to lie and say I haven't thought about the way his lips felt on mine every night when I go to sleep and that when we both smelled of salt I didn't think about how the salt might taste on his mouth. But instead I tell the truth, whispered to my friends and nervously told to my nails who can barely take my habit.

I want to tell the lie that I'm every bit as edgy as I used to believe I was. I want to say fuck like it's some cool, hip thing. I want to lie and say I'm different than other girls, that I'm a feminist because it's the hip thing to do, that I don't care. I want to lie and say boys don't matter, that feelings are for chumps, that all that matters is if the cool bloggers like your torn up poetry.

But the problem is I'm not very good at lying. I always end up telling the truth.

The truth is I really, really like that boy with his silly jokes and the way he tilts his head down when something is funny and smiles at the ground, as if it's the one who told the joke. The truth is I love that boy who is far away but I don't know if I can keep on loving him the way he deserves. The truth is I'm a feminist because I care about equality for everyone. The truth is I'm not that different from other girls, because no one is that different from other girls, not even boys and honestly I'm really sick of people pretending they're some special snowflake because having things in common with other people rocks, it's call you have something to talk about besides yourself, stop being such a boring person. The truth is I like emotions and feeling happy and I'm not edgy because I'm trying to learn to love myself and the things around me. The truth is I love wearing dresses. The truth is I look for comments every day on my blog but I rarely pay attention to who they're from, I'm just happy my writing meant something to someone besides just me.

The truth is I said I wanted to tell a lie but I actually wanted to tell the truth.