>You didn’t ask me, but I’ll tell you still – I hate lies. Of all kinds: the ones that come out of my mouth and the ones that I have to hear. I hate those lies even more that come out of my mind. Sometimes it’s the only safe resort – a lie, that is. And even then it makes me awfully uncomfortable. I am awfully uncomfortable right now.
I hate myself more for having told a simple lie than I would hate you if you told me one. No, I’d probably hate you as much. I can look you in the eye and tell a lie, but I still hate myself for it. And I hate what a lie does – the agony it cause me, the heart ache it causes somebody else.
If you could take the truth, I would not bother making up lies. And if you didn’t believe my lie to be the truth, I’d probably feel less uncomfortable right now.