The Lie I Keep Telling Myself

It's stupid, I know. So stupid. But I can't stop doing it. It's like a little script that runs in my head, over and over, and I play along every single time.

It's about my ex, Mark. We broke up, like, two years ago. It wasn't a huge dramatic thing. We just… drifted. We wanted different things. He wanted kids right away, I wanted to travel. He wanted to stay in our small town forever, I wanted to see the world. Blah blah blah, you've heard it all before.

But here's the lie. Whenever someone asks about him – a friend, a family member, a random coworker – I always say, 'Oh, Mark? Yeah, we're still good friends. We grab coffee every now and then.'

That's bullshit. We haven't spoken in months. The last time we saw each other, it was awkward and forced. We smiled, said hi, and then avoided eye contact for the rest of the grocery store visit. Good friends? We're practically strangers.

I don't know why I keep saying it. Maybe it's because it makes me feel less like a failure. Like I didn't completely ruin something good. Like I’m still capable of maintaining a decent human connection, even with someone I used to be so close to. Maybe it's because admitting the truth – that we’re basically nothing to each other now – feels too final, too sad. Like accepting that a whole chapter of my life is truly over, closed for good.

Sometimes, late at night, I imagine calling him. Just to say hi. Just to see how he's doing. But I never do. I chicken out. I worry it would be even more awkward than the last time. I worry he's moved on completely, found someone new, and doesn't want to hear from me. Which he probably has. Which he probably should.

So I keep telling the lie. A tiny, harmless little lie. But it eats at me. It makes me feel phony. It makes me feel like I'm disrespecting him, somehow, by pretending we're something we're not. It’s like I'm trying to rewrite our history, to make it neater and tidier than it really was. I need to stop. I just don’t know how to start being honest about it.

Maybe writing this is a start. Maybe just admitting it to someone, even anonymously, will help me break the cycle. God, I hope so.