The Taste of Lies

This is who I am. Here, you can see the kind of in-your-face honesty that leaves you raw and less than curious because there's too much already to know. Here is where I allow myself to be horny, bitter, vengeful, beautiful, ugly, sentimental, loving, and simply ME. There have been times when I hid from this because the truth was too honest to tell. Or maybe just too painful. Obviously, I don't write everything. Even here there are those things I haven't mentioned, those things so deeply buried even I don't know what will come to the surface should I dig out the memory. But, overall, this is me.
I used to say that I didn't care whether or not anyone was lying to me. I still say that. Only now it's because I don't believe a word anyone says. About anything. Because I once was fed a lie so big and foul that the taste has never left my mouth. You think words have no flavour, no scent? You'd be wrong. Some are so sickeningly sweet you can almost choke on them, and were these the ones I ate so greedily? These are the ones to be wary of, these are the ones with the bitter aftertaste that never leaves. Like eating brownies laced with quinine. And every brownie afterwards tastes wrong, slightly disgusting because you have to taste it through the quinine that still permeates your tongue. But you don't stop eating. Not everything is brownies and quinine. But nothing will taste the same ever again.
Laters