The Truth:
SO my mom died when I was little, and I had to move thousands of miles away into a house with kids I didn't know and my step mom who I'd never met and father who i had met like idk once or twice before this that i could remember. He was a tough man and ended up leaving a little while later to go to Afghanistan and fly. I felt completely alone. I remember acting out and being bad. But nothing felt better at the time then making up stories.

I made up tons of stories to convince my fellow 4th, and 5th graders that I didn't live in a broken family or blended house hold. I didn't stop there either I made up stories about all sorts of just totally whacked shit. Eventually I grew up and entered high school. When I did the lies followed. I wanted them to go away and everyone to forget about them cause we were just kids you know?

But they followed me non the less so I kept up with the lies tended to them like a garden. I even started rumors by whispering where I knew everyone could hear me.

Then college came about and I thought finally I'd start new clear my name and tell the truth.