Definition:

Compulsive Liar:
A person that lies out of reflex for one of three reasons;
A: Constant fear of punishment resulting from telling the truth
B: The constant witness of others lying
C: The fear of not getting what they want by the truth

I, Amy Cook, am a compulsive liar.

The truth simply evades my thoughts.

Why be dull and boring, when you could have an exciting life in others eyes by just switching a few words? This is probably one of the main reasons I got into the habit of lying. It makes me seem interesting, it gives me comfort, it lets me live to the fullest extent. Well, almost.

I've grown up lying, it's like a second language to me. Nowadays I don't even have to think about it and it just comes out, sort of like word vomit. Sounds gross, I know, but really it's just when words simply slip into existence without being given a single thought.

You see, my dad ran off when I was about five.
He said it was just a little vacation, for daddy's only.
In reality, it meant he'd found a young, pretty blond girl eager to spread her legs on command.

So, when I started school and other kids were kissing their mothers and fathers good bye at the front drop off.
I was walking in alone, my mom went to work early and came home late.
It was the only way to support our family, if you could even call it that.

When asked why my parents weren't dropping me off like the others, I simply replied with a lie.
I told them my parents were archaeologists, and away at an important site located in Egypt.
And since they were in Egypt, of course, I was left home with the nanny.
She was nice, but thought it would build character for me to walk to and from school.
In my mind at least.

I pretty much lived in my head.
Right from the start of school I adopted a British accent, just to make me seem more unique.

I can't say I had a lot of friends, yet I can't say I didn't.
I sort of shrugged them away.
As much as I wanted to be liked, to have real friends.
I never trusted anyone, not even myself.

Do you get how huge of an impact my father lying and leaving had on me?

So that's how I grew up.
And eventually, as we got older, the kids saw past my act, my lies still stood solid in my mind.
But they knew I was fake.

I'm still not sure how or when they all grew this sudden knowledge, but they did.

That's when I lost every one, not that it mattered.
So, once again, I was left alone.

Alone.
That is such a familiar word to me.
I was always alone.
In school, at home, everywhere.

I just got used to it at an early age.
Too early of an age.

Yet, I continued to lie.
My reality eventually began to fade and lies became the truth.
To me at least.

I guess that's probably when my mother finally took notice.
That and the fact the teachers called for an intervention.

Oh how I hate that word.
Simply because that single, lonesome word, sent my entire world crashing down.
All the lies, I had built up like a fortress around my real self, came tumbling to the ground.
Still, I tried to keep them.
Even when confronted with the truth, I stuck to my lies.

That would be the reason I am where I am today.
Imagine being just seventeen, and in a mental hospital.

They said it would help.
They lied.

The screams from the others like the one's that had horrible, terrible dreams kept me up at night.
Sleep, like the truth, was now evading me.

The psychologist I was subjected to seeing each day, tried to pry open my mind.
To find all of the lies, to find the cause of the fore mentioned lies.

I didn't let him in.

They were my lies, my secrets, my life.
Or so I had come to believe.

I hated the place with a passion.
Saint Edwards Haven For The Mentally Unstable.
Ha, what a joke.
What a lie.

Here I was, once again, alone.
Each patient had his or her own troubles, and seemed to stick in their particular groups.
The insomniacs with the insomniacs, the anorexics with the anorexics, the OCD's with the OCD's.
But there were no other compulsive liars.

Well, at least not until he came here.
Yes, him.
He was ugly.

Another lie.

Now I couldn't even let myself in on the truth.
But he saw past my flaws, probably because he was just like me, and tried to befriend me.
Of course at first I backed away, kept my distance, but as time passed by...
Especially when he got moved into the room right next to mine.

We all had one person rooms, the staff thought it was best for us to have privacy so we could heal.

I started to lighten up, it was no use trying to get through this hell hole, so called haven, alone.
And what scared me most about that single thought, was that it wasn't a lie.
Of course, due to that simple fact I once again withdrew myself.
Kept in my head.
In my haven.

But Frank Iero just would not take that.