Ever heard of the bedtime story about the boy who cried wolf by the Greek Fabulist Aesop?
The story went on like this:
Once there was a shepherd boy who tended to his master's flock of sheep situated near the dark side of the forest. His instructions were if ever a wolf would prey on the flock, all he had to do was to call for help and the villagers would rush to scare the vicious animal away. Far from the village and with no one to talk to, at first he turned to his dog for companionship or played his flute for entertainment. From dawn 'til dusk he tended sheep.
One day, he thought it would be amusing to test what his master instructed him. He gathers air from his stomach and cried 'Wolf! Wolf!' and the villagers immediately dropped whatever they were tending to and rushed to help only to find the boy laughing and no wolf at site. The next day, he cried again 'Wolf! Wolf!' and for the second time the villagers rushed to help only to be greeted by the boy laughing at them.
However on the third day, alas a wolf actually showed up and started to attack the flock. The boy in his panic dropped everything he had and cried 'Wolf! Wolf!', but the villagers had learned their lesson thinking 'He is only fooling around, there was no wolf to be chased away! Best they kept to themselves and leave him be entertained by his own.' The wolf had a feast as there were no villagers who had rushed to chase him away with knife and pitchforks. After a hearty meal he licked his lips and slithered back to the dark forest, leaving the boy behind with frantic and dead sheep.
What moral is portrayed in the story? That liars are not rewarded even if they tell the truth.
But do you know what happened after the boy was left with carnage? You would think he stopped lying and had learned his lesson right?
You are fucking wrong.
The boy continued to lie.
He lied so often that he started to believe in his own lies.
Lying became his everyday routine.
It became easier and easier to the point you wouldn't know truth from falsehoods.
And the villagers eventually believed him for it.
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My name is Melissa Collins, but most people call me by my nickname 'Missy'.
Everybody thinks I am just your normal teenager who goes to parties, do drugs, and have sex with whichever random hot guy who humps his fat filthy cock against my freshly ironed pants. Or skirt. Or shorts. Whatever, you get the gist.
But they don't know who I really am. In fact none of those are true. I don't go to parties. Heck I don't even have friends, who the fuck would invite me? I don't do drugs (though I almost did but that story is for another time), and most of all I am a fucking virgin, so pure and holy like Mother Mary.
Joke, who am I kidding? I'm not even religious.
But I'm a virgin really. Don't fucking laugh!
My life is a perfect contrast to what people think and that is because…
I'm a good liar.
Now you might wonder why I would love to lie about myself to other people but let me introduce you to my life so you can understand. Never judge a bitch when you haven't worn their shoes as the old saying goes or something that sounds like it.
Our family has this terrible habit of moving around. We can't stay at one place for too long and I had to switch schools every schoolyear for like all my life. Sometimes even in the middle of the semester we'd start packing again and move on to the next city or country at that. You would think our family is chased by something haunted but we're quite normal if I may say so.
Nobody in school loves the transfer student.
You either get bullied by fucking jocks or ostracized by bitchy cliques. There's no in between.
When I was in pre-school, I remember I came to class super early then one girl tried to stab me with a pencil (which successfully got into my eye) because I had the audacity to sit on her favorite chair. Thankfully, it was the rubber tip that punctured my eyeball and not the lead tip. The violence of children is otherworldly and adults don't even think much of it just because children 'don't know better' and that 'they'll grow out of it'.
So when the homeroom teacher came in and saw my bloodshot eye she immediately proceeded to panic like a chicken spooked out from her coop, called my parents but unfortunately couldn't get in touch with them.
She interrogated everyone asking who did it to me and through my able teary eye, I saw the girl who stabbed me throw daggers with her beautiful baby blue doll eyes as if saying 'Don't you even dare'.
In the end, I told the teacher I fell asleep holding my pencil and punctured myself. She believed me.
The girl who actually stabbed me? Well we became best friends for the rest the schoolyear.
She was rich and spoiled and didn't give shit to other children as long as she gets what she wants. Good thing I was on her good side coz I got special treatment from the other kids who wanted in.
I learned early on that contrary to what people say that lying doesn't do you good, it actually does.
Lying is fucking awesome.