prologue

If you don’t know it by now, hear this; your parents will lie to you. Your parents have lied to you in past. In fact, your parents might be in the process of lying to you right now, at this very moment.

Your mother lies.

And your father lies.

In the sincerest of forms, the mother who suckled you and the father who laid down the law, for you, will pump you so full of lies that it will hurt to realize just how much they tried to love you.

Now I’m not talking about the tooth fairy or the easter bunny. No, none of that old-hat. I’m talking about platitudes of supplied ‘truth’ that become mantras to be understood and stored away in your mind. To be shelved and catalogued as possibilities ripe for the taking.

I know that they lied to me now, but hindsight is about as useful as last week’s television guide.

Now I’m just someone, who’s no one really, who can’t do anything about anything.

My heart is a stone in titanium casing brimming with acid.

I still see my parents, don’t get me wrong, but one day I think I might just burst like some fizzy champagne. And when I do, it won’t be pretty. When I do unleash the resentment of ages I will just tear everyone down.

I will be Rambo’s infinite clip and my parents will just be struck dumb.

It’s hard to know when to lie and when to sprinkle in a little dash of truth. There’s no book written, nor will there ever be, about how to lie effectively. Lying For Dummies.

I’m a hypocrite too though, because I’m sure that if I ever have kids I’ll lie to them too.

Because if kids ever knew the truth about where they were going, they would never even have a chance to be happy.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they lost their wills to live.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they just blew their fucking brains out.