grifter

It was a few years ago that I first realized the lies became easier to say than the truth. I'd been saying them for so long, practicing and getting it just right, getting it perfect, absolutely fucking perfect. I know every little detail like it really happened, for all of them. I know when to stumble, which parts to forget or get wrong and go back and correct, which parts to leave out. I know every question I'll ever get. I know it so well. And it's not just that. I know how to improvise. I'm good at it. I've learned all the tricks. I do it automatically sometimes. Sometimes, when I'm not paying attention, I don't even know if I'm lying. It's that good.

I've been doing it since I was a kid. Before I was eighteen I'd probably committed every type of fraud and forgery there is, and more than a few things that weren't criminal but were still dishonest. I got caught sometimes. More often nobody would find out, or they'd assume it was someone else's fault. In the end I always got off, somehow.

It's not that I can't be sincere. It's just hard, and I lie without thinking now. Sometimes I try to stop, but it's all I know. There's always one last grift I want to pull--just so I have enough stashed away to start an honest life. I tell myself I can't afford to stop, and I'm not sure if I'm lying when I say it.