Sometimes I Lie

by Alice Feeney

People are not mirrors, they don’t see you how you see yourself.

Nana always said that books made better friends than people anyway. Books will take you anywhere if you let them,

The stretched out time the three of us endure is coated in the silence of unspoken words. I can feel walls of them, each letter, each syllable piling up on top of one another to form an unstable house of unanswered questions. Lies form the mortar, holding the walls together. If there weren’t so many lies, the walls would have collapsed by now. Instead, we’ve built ourselves a prison.

Some people appear happy on the outside and you only know they’re broken inside if you listen as well as look.