"I feel your compliments like bullets on skin"-Olivia Rodrigo. Compliments are a fickle thing. it is impossible to know if a person is being truthful, and I guess that's why I never take them seriously. I don't want to believe in them because I'm scared of the person I might become.
From a very young age, kids are often seen as liars, and I was no exception. I remember the first time my mom beat me: my sister ate my mom's personal snacks in her room, and blamed me. I tried to defend myself, but in the end, she didn't believe me. Simple things like that labeled me the 'liar' of the family, even though I truly wasn't (most of the time, eating Halloween candy FOR ME was different than eating someone else's food). As I grew older the label became true,. I started to lie about little things-white lies, fibs. Like telling people I had a Iphone when, in reality, my family was too poor to even own a TV. It became a cycle: people would believe the lie, I wouldn't get caught, and the lies grew bigger. I was beginning to test the limits.
Eventually, they became too big. By middle school, I truly think I had become an evil person. I had a friend group that thought they were on top of the world, and they were a very mean group but popular. I became friends with them by essentially integrating and adapting their ways, which included talking behind peoples backs. This combined with my habit of lying created a ugly monster. I would compliment people to their face, then turn around and spread rumors, spin the truth on something small. In truth, I was always jealous. I was a bully. I didn't just experience hardship--I became it for other people. Of course, I had a bad home life, and got so caught up in everything it became a way to distract myself from my abusive mom.
Eventually, everything came to a standstill. COVID happened, and I stayed home 24/7. Without my usual coping mechanism, I found a new one: self-harm. I'll spare the details, but around January of 2019 I was sent to a mental hospital. There, I met my best friend, who had been admitted because she was horribly bullied. Her story made me realize the harm I had caused, and I felt, still do, deeply ashamed. I moved away, but before I left I apologized to everyone I hurt and told them the truth of what I had done.
Now, in my senior year of high-school, because of my own actions, I can never take a compliment with ease. I can't shake the anxiety that the beautiful people kindly complimenting me, might be monsters just like I was, and without my armor of lies, the guilt hits like bullets. Deep down, I truly feel like I don't deserve it.