tell me lies

"I'm not gonna tell him anything real about me but he can know all about the pretend me."

A comment so seemingly innocent but so telling at the same time. Where do I fit into your land of make believe? How much of what you tell me is simply a part of the imaginary life you've written out for yourself?

White lies so meaningless and petty. Are you that unhappy in your own skin? Are you that unhappy next to me?

Why do I have to back track when someone asks me what I did last night and look like the asshole because for whatever reason you had already told them you were out doing something else with someone else while your sitting at my side? Is it that bad that you're "friends" know you spend your evenings with me?

The doors open. You're free to do whatever you want. All I ask is that you don't make me look stupid. For some reason that's always been a harder task for you than I thought it should be.