The sun arose from the eastern part of San Antonio, or to me, the eastern part of San Diego. The current local time is 7:48am. My bed shirks as I swing my legs over the edge, grab the nightstand, and push off as I walk toward the shower. I turn to look at myself in the mirror; my hair is all over the place, my eyes blood shocked, red soda stains on my white T-shirt. I smell horrible. A box of pizza lays un-empty on the tile floor of the restroom. Nothing more than a few slices are left. Not to my surprise a three liter bottle of big red is directly to the left of it. Not one drip of liquid comes out as I turn the bottle upside down, completely empty, somehow quite the opposite of the box of pizza. My hands connect with the shower curtain as I move it aside and strip down. The nozzle turns causing the water to stream down from the mighty shower head.
There’s nothing like burning yourself in the morning to wake up. A million little thoughts rush through my mind like speeding cars on a highway traveling toward their end destination. One of the many thoughts that happen to reappear every single damn day happens to be. Who am I going to lie to today? Who is the very unlucky person that I will hurt? Or the contrary side of my thoughts, why must I continue to lie to find joy in my life? Why is it that I cannot go through a single day in my life without telling a lie? How long will I continue to do this? Will the dark side ever going away? Will the darkening storm that threatens my future disappear one day? Some people tell me that light conquers everything, right now, the dark is overtaking me. The strong candle in my heart that used to produce light is fading away slowly. Without pausing it continues to retreat leaving my heart dark and cold. It’s an unforgiving place, a wasteland full of nothing but junk. It is where the demon lives inside of me.
Who have I become? My name is Patrick Claiborne, I am a lair. Half of everything I have just told you is a lie. I am in fact not taking a shower. There wasn’t a box of pizza on the tile in my restroom. I do not, nor will I ever drink the soda beverage known to many people as Big Red. For the record, I am typing over hundred words every four minutes that pass. How is this you are probably wondering? When I turned twenty six I became obsessed with online chat rooms such as AOL and Yahoo. I also happened to discover the dangerous world of online gaming. Which leaves us to where I am now, playing an online game, flirting with some girl that I have never met in my entire years of existence.
To tell the complete truth, I may be talking to a dude who is pretending to be a chick. Believe it or not, it happens a lot more times than you may think. So why is it that I continue to talk to her/him? Well I can tell you why, because deep down inside I love every minute of attention I am getting from them. They treat me like I am actually loved, like I have a partner in life to enjoy it with. But wait, I have people that love and care about me so why do I need more? What more can I possibly want, when I have everything I already need? Her name is Melanie and she lives in Kentucky, she works at the local police station working her way up to becoming a forensic officer. You would think being a cop she would be more careful giving away her personal information. I guess not. Within the last eight days I’ve grown to know her more than anyone else on the game.
I know almost everything about her, her mother is a doctor at the university of Kentucky medical center. She has a cousin name Kara who happens to be a young teenaged mother who gave birth no more than six days ago to a boy named Nick. Trust me I am no stalker, but I have acquired all this from lying. Melanie also has breast cancer, she is struggling each and every day and the chances of her living slip away each growing minute.
She wants me to comfort her when I talk; all I know how to do is lie though. She thinks my name is Carol, she thinks I work for the United States military. She also thinks that I will be coming down to Kentucky tomorrow to visit her. Which of course is not true, she will continue to be sick tomorrow and I will not appear at the airport. Nor will I ever come to visit her. Tomorrow is when I will finally log on for one last time and make up an excuse to why I wasn’t there. It will probably be because I booked the wrong flight that so happened to take me to Kansas instead of Kentucky. Trust me I know that is a lame excuse.
The thing is, I am actually falling in love with this girl, I don’t know her though, and I’ve talked to her for over three months now. I’ve seen pictures of her and have seen the way she acts around me. Melanie carries herself with flawless posture, never showing fear to the evil that threatens her life. How could one in the face of death always be happy and never stop smiling and enjoying life? All she has ever wanted is someone to love her and take care of her. Someone that is going to be there for her when she really needs them, I am supposed to be that person. Her knight and shining armor, instead I have lied about everything to her. I am living as an entirely different person each and every time I log on this game. The moment I log on, I am no longer Patrick Claiborne, the college student that I am, mastering in creative writing. I become Carol, the United States Army Ranger, and the guy that almost every girl wants to fall in love with.
How sick in the head can I be to continue to do this? I’m going to be causing more pain than she already needs. The demon inside me continues to push me, forcing me to keep lying to her. I am a slave to the demon, the demon that feeds off pain and sadness. How can I save myself from the collapsed soul that traps me, the soul that has turned evil? How will I ever be able to redeem myself in the afterlife? What do I have to do for this madness to stop? Right now, I’m not even sure if I am completely sane.
I have a tear in my eye, I’ve become the phonies that many people hate and look down on. I’m the exact definition of one, a stone cold liar. An impersonator, the disgusting low life’s in life that feed off hurting people. That is the definition of Patrick Claiborne, me. More tears begin to fall as my eyes grow heavy and my vision becomes blurred. I begin to feel tired as I feel all the blood in my body rushing towards my head. I try to stand, pushing off my computer desk stubbing toward the bed, reaching for my asthmatic medication.
But no, I am too late, my knees collapse and impact against the floor of my apartment. I’m on my knees; I look up toward the ceiling pulling my hair out in frustration. “This is my entire fault, forget everyone, I am better off as a loner.” My eyes are getting heavier and my heart beat is slowing down. With one last burst of energy I reach for the medication, the inhaler falls to the ground and bounces towards me, one puff, two puff, three puff, a crackling sound comes from my mouth as I drop the inhaler and pass out.
With one motion I rub my left eye as I hear the alarm clock going off. My mind is going crazy as I discover I slept throughout the whole day. It is now the following day, the day where I am suppose to be flying to Kentucky. I know that is not going to happen though. I walk over to my desktop and press the power button, thank god for automatic shut off after a certain amount of hours. My e-mail is the first thing I check, right in front of me I can already see an e-mail that I was expecting. The sender is a person name Jason Laborn, I recognize the first name but I never knew his surname. Jason was Melanie’s older brother, a sailor, a crab fisherman who could barely support his family. With one click I opened up the small mail animation. A three paragraph e-mail popped up with a picture of Melanie. I begun to read.
“Melanie as you knew was a strong women, she never lost hope that she would get better and be able to spend her life with someone like you. It’s funny because she use to tell me a lot about you. How special you were, all the times you’ve made her laugh and have always stood up for her whenever jerks online would harass her. You were something truly spectacular to her; you were all she ever talked about, even last night with her final words. With one last breathe she told me to read you a letter she wrote awhile back when she learned of how long she had. So here it goes. By the way these are in her exact words”
“Carol, oh Carol how I loved you truly. If you are reading this then that means the obvious, I’ve passed on. I want you to know that you were all I thought about, day and night. Even when I felt really horrible and couldn’t get online, you were always on my mind. I am going to miss you so much; your humor is something I wish I could take with me. I will always be with you though, even if you don’t see me I am with you, in spirit. Please don’t cry for me, for I am now in peace. No more pain for Melanie! I am free flying around with the wings I have earned through all the good deeds I have done in my life. I am watching over you as you read this right now. I am by your side holding onto you, catching your tears as they fall with a cup.
“I’ve enjoyed those long three months with you so much, I only wish I could have more time. I wanted to be able to feel your soft face, feel your rugged arms, and stare into those deep blue eyes you have Carol. I wanted to be able to make you dinner when you come home, and make you cookies when you are having a bad day. I wanted us to have the best life we could ever have had, even if it were for a little while. Please don’t blame yourself for not making it to come see me. I will always love you, and I am waiting for you right now, smile. Melanie”
How could I do this, I lied to someone who has now passed on. I am a horrible person who has literally screwed up on everything physically and mentally possible in life. Will I ever be able to redeem myself? Of course I will. I don’t care what I have to do, I will find a way to change; I am facing my demon and releasing it. No more will I lie to helpless people who cannot defend themselves, or anyone else for that matter. Change is within grabbing distance and I will reach it. The light has found me, my heart is starting to warm up. A nuclear chain reaction is going off within my body; things are slowly but surely beginning to change for the better. I couldn’t just keep living that way. This is a new start, I am being reborn. My real name is not Patrick Claiborne. My name is Dallas Philips, and I am a lie-addict.
The whole gym is silent, the circle of chairs filled with other people all face toward me. A certain look fills there face as they all begin to clap. From the back corner a man with a trench coat and notebook stands, “Thank you for sharing.” I step away from the podium and return to one of the empty seats. I am back within the circle now, my story is done and I am now the listener. “Would anybody else like to share before we call this meeting done?” A woman sitting across from me with blonde hair stands and walks toward the podium. “My name is Melanie, and I am a lie-addict. I have been struggling with personal problems for over three years now and ongoing. A few months back I lied to someone I thought was real special, someone in this room who has just confessed. For now this is all I have to say, thank you.”
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